


Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

by Verity (PenelopeGrace)



Series: Beautiful, Dirty, Rich [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Age Reversal, Aka victor as pillow princess slash slave, Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Bath Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bonding, Breeding Bench, Bukkake with one person, Businessman Katsuki Yuuri, Cameras, Claiming Bites, Cock Warming, Come Inflation, Consensual Somnophilia, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Edging, Enabled by Waffle, Except it kind of isn't cause Victor doesn't really need the money, Exhibitionism, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Smut, Food Play, Frottage, Fucking Machines, I guess? I needed the tag to work, Ice Play, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Marathon Sex, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mirror Sex, Omega Victor Nikiforov, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pole Dancing, Pop Star AU, Pop Star Victor Nikiforov, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Roleplay, Rut Sex, Sad Wank, Scenting, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Subspace, Temperature Play, Tit-fucking, Umm ch 19 to 23 has plot arc lmao, Video Cameras, Wax Play, Which I can use as a tag, Yuuri just wants to lavish offerings for Victor, but god bless yuuri katsuki's stamina, but it is developing a case of plot, distention, distracted sex, every chapter has one prompt, formal wear, gagging, hot-dogging, i dont believe in god, so this is supposed to be pwp, there will still be porn per chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 16:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 82,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeGrace/pseuds/Verity
Summary: World class pop star Agape meets a curiously fascinating but mysterious businessman, Yuuri Katsuki, at the annual Kennedy Center Honors. They fall into a fast, filthy, fervent relationship.Kinktober 2019





	1. Distention ft. Come Inflation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dachi/gifts), [miyari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyari/gifts), [faeriefirefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriefirefly/gifts), [Elffaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elffaw/gifts), [Isis_Nocturne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis_Nocturne/gifts), [GioGioStar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GioGioStar/gifts), [TheSprout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSprout/gifts), [Linisen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linisen/gifts), [takeitoffhemmo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takeitoffhemmo/gifts), [Boodleookins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boodleookins/gifts), [IllyasJames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllyasJames/gifts), [SttatusQuo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SttatusQuo/gifts), [butcher_blues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butcher_blues/gifts).

> Fuck 18+ on Ice discord. I'm not explaining myself anymore. 
> 
> This is for Kinktober 2019. But early. Cause I don't give a fuck.
> 
> Special thanks to those enablers who keep telling me shit. That’s Fae, Waffle, Dachi, and miyari.
> 
> Based on this Kinktober: https://twitter.com/ronthemess/status/1166836831410970625?s=21
> 
> Edit (10/5/2019): OMG WTF the enabler list keeps expanding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Handjobs</strike> | <strike>Suspension</strike> | Distention | <strike>Hate-fucking/Angry Sex</strike>

The organizer for the Kennedy Center specifically emailed and then video called Agape, known as Victor Nikiforov to his close friends and family and Wikipedia, to not do "any outlandishly insane and bizarre acts or wear anything unsuitable for this prestigious event." Escaping from the dressing room, Victor has narrowly missed the beta event organizer and his berating tone again by a nick of a second and has taken to hiding himself and his borderline offensive outfit in the men's fancy restroom with its gilded mirrors and lounge of little cushions and armchairs. 

He stares at himself in the mirror. His wonderful makeup artist, Masumi, polished his skin and plucked his eyebrows. His silver long hair flows over his shoulder, artfully held by a clutch of blue roses interwoven into hair strands. His robe loosely hangs around his frame. All he needs now is the dress, which is currently wrapped and folded gently in his arms. 

Standing on top of the Billboards and magazines and the rankings at twenty-three and being labeled as a pop god is more than an accomplishment to Victor. It's his dream come true. 

Which is why it’s unsettling to Victor when he finally puts on a subtly offensive dress. The dress of shiny lush green and gold, though rather contained for Agape, splits itself into a deep, plunging line down Victor’s front and cleanly exposes his navel. Purple and golden lines wrap around his torso, and fragile dangling gold necklaces offer little modesty to the bare skin. They’ll look great under the lights, however. 

He's about to pull up the tiny zipper behind his back when the door opens. 

The smell of _ rut _ washes over. 

Victor has never felt so _ awake. _

He spins around, scenting the air in interest. It's a lovely smell with a light mixture of cherry blossoms and ice that is unusual for an alpha. Yet, it pleases the omega so much that a low purr thrums through his throat. Victor unbiddenly moves closer, his vision narrowing down to the alpha alone. 

The alpha rushes for the sinks, removes his glasses, and splashes cold water on his face. Victor notes he's Asian and distinguished in appearance with a tailored suit, of average height, a little shorter than Victor. But he has the physique and muscles that makes Victor give a second look. 

"I'm sorry," the alpha gasps out. "But I missed a dose in my suppressants this morning. I have to. . ." He sniffs, scenting the air in arousal and then alarm. His brown eyes meet Victor's. He slowly backs away from the pop star. "I'm so sorry! I'm leaving right away. . ." 

Almost as if in a trance, Victor closes his eyes and breathes the heavenly scent straight from the gland on the alpha's neck. He opens his eyes to find the alpha’s face merely two inches away. Victor drowns in the alpha’s pheromones, feeling the world fall away. “I can help,” he tells him. 

Ruts usually last one or two days, but knotting would give the alpha a little breathing room. Victor has never before been the one to be so _ helpful. _

"I. . ." Whatever protest the alpha has is lost the very second Victor's lips touch the very corner of the alpha’s mouth. 

A switch turns on somewhere in the alpha's brain. 

A possessive growl sends shivers down Victor's neck. The alpha is quick to move the omega onto the fancy leather lounge chairs and pushes Victor onto his back to lie against the little throw pillow. Thankfully, he seems to have enough of mind to not rip apart Victor's dress. He carefully pushes up the dress, lifts up its many folds, and growls again at the sight of Victor's gold Ayten Gasson thong. 

His thumbs hook the band of his expensive thong and smoothly pulls it down Victor's legs and places it on the little table. Victor nearly swoons. A gentleman even in the restroom and the beginnings of a surprise rut. Victor has many lovers who tore apart his expensive delicate underwear without consideration— 

The alpha crawls over Victor, extremely cautious to not press the omega under his weight. He pauses, his lips inches above Victor's face, and murmurs, "You sure?" 

In answer, Victor thoughtlessly replies, "I've never been more sure." 

The alpha lines his cock up to Victor’s eager hole, already dripping with slick. He goes slowly into Victor, almost restrained by whatever remaining self-control the alpha possesses, as if forcing himself not to push. 

Reaching to the alpha’s back, Victor whispers, “I’m not fragile.”

“If I,” he pauses, breathing out in fierce concentration as wide brown eyes capture Victor’s attention, “go any faster. You won’t be leaving my bed for _ days.” _

And Victor’s eyes dilate. _ Oh, _Victor thinks in surprise. 

It’s torture to Victor, who tightens his grip around the alpha’s expensive suit jacket and squirms and clenches around the alpha’s cock as it dives deeper and deeper until it finally bottoms out. It’s big. Victor thinks it’s bigger than the dildos and toys he uses at home. And it’s so much better, warm and hot with sizable girth. Victor glances down at his stomach, and he could see a little bump in his abdomen. 

Then _ he _begins to move, slowly but confidently. 

Victor feels pleasure coursing through his veins, biting his lips back from moaning away the most irrational and deep urge to see this alpha breed, breed, and breed Victor until he’s full of his babies. Or until he’s stuffed so full of come until he looks so close to delivering a baby. 

The alpha releases with a moan and a gasp of _ Agape! _, his knot surprisingly not forming as he pumps streams of come deep inside Victor. Victor arches up, seeing stars at the back of his eyes. He rises to a crescendo, the stars turning dark for a moment. 

Victor returns to moan softly at the alpha casually nipping around Victor’s scent gland. The alpha thrusts away at Victor’s cunt, still _ achingly _hard inside of Victor. 

“Another?” Victor gasps. He doesn’t think he could come _ again _so fast. 

“I always,” he breathes, “have good,” he thrusts, changing the angle slightly to hit that sensitive _ spot _ in Victor, “refractory periods.” Then the base of cock begins to expand, his knot forming. 

The omega could feel it grow, all the come locked away inside of him and plugged by the growing knot. The alpha maneuvers Victor onto his side, so the omega would not be crushed under his weight. In the afterglows, the alpha nuzzles Victor’s neck and apologetically licks at the little bites on Victor’s shoulder. 

Victor glances down to see where they are both temporarily tied. His normally flat stomach has protruded to accommodate the alpha’s cock and his load. He could nearly imagine they are somewhere far away from this restroom, maybe in a hotel or even Victor’s apartment instead. 

It takes a good 10 minutes for an alpha’s knot to shrink and expel all of their seed. This alpha’s capacity seems endless, as he casually spoons the omega and possessively scents Victor’s neck. Victor spies his own expanding protruding belly, already distended with the alpha’s large cock and increasingly copious amount of come. 

Once the alpha's knot shrinks, the alpha gently pulls himself out and moves to the opposite chair, easily moving around Victor. He's disheveled, especially so with the many layers of clothes he still has on. 

Victor gasps. It’s obscene. Bone-weak and faintly throbbing with pleasure over the fancy armchair, he’s leaking with his slick and the alpha’s come from his cunt, he still doesn’t know the alpha’s name, and he’s about to give a televised performance in 20 minutes, and he’s stuffed with so much come deep inside him that his belly looks vaguely pregnant. 

He sits up, careful with the dress and blushing when the come slowly slips down his thighs and nears the leather seats. “Help me get this dress off. I need to clean up. I can’t walk out of here with come dripping—”

The alpha suddenly looks positively ravenous, hungry with dilated eyes of a predator. He pushes down Victor’s shoulder, kneels on the floor, and lick just below the slick and come on Victor’s thigh. His hot, wet tongue draws a line of fire, smoothly cleaning up the mess between Victor’s legs. The alpha gently parts Victor even further, his tongue diving deep into Victor’s hole. He drinks Victor up like he’s the finest wine that has ever existed, and Victor arches up, desperately pushing against the alpha's face. 

The alpha seems to approve, for he tightens his grip on Victor's thigh, as if planning to never let go. 

If this alpha is a fraction of anything like this in Victor's bed, Victor wouldn't let go either. 

Victor's hips unwillingly buckle as he comes one more time. The alpha pulls back with all the gracefulness of a languishing feline and deep satisfaction. 

The omega suddenly feels bereft. He quickly remembers, "It's almost my cue!" 

Surprisingly, the alpha helps zip Victor up and rearranges his dress to perfection with attentive detail. Victor captures a glimpse of his hands, long, pale, and delicate. 

"Here," he says, offering Victor a card. His soft brown eyes fondly drinks the omega in. 

Victor takes the card. 

"If you wish to call." With uncanny nervousness, the alpha dips his head in a bow, grabs his glasses off the counter, and exits the restroom. His black leather belt is free and dangling and he's hobbling as he escapes, the omega notes with bemusement. 

Victor doesn't look at the card. He reaches for the folds of his dress and pulls up to shove the card under the strap of his golden thong. Releasing the hem, he straightens himself and gives one last check up at the mirror. The little red marks on his neck could be easily hidden by concealer once he goes back to Masumi. But. 

_ Holy shit. His stomach. _

The dress is tailored perfectly for him, every inch hugging him perfectly. Too perfectly now. Everyone could see the little pudge in his stomach. The pudge from all the come deep inside of Victor, the come the alpha couldn't clean out. 

Victor could see the next headlines on the trashy websites some people call news. "Agape: Getting fat or pregnant?" 

Only Victor and that alpha would know the truth. 

A smile curls up at the corner of the omega's lip. 

* * *

He manages to get onto the stage in time, dodging Yakov Feltsman and tuning out the organizer’s criticism of his wrinkly dress as Masumi fixes Victor’s makeup. His eyes adjust to the bright lights, and he feels the beginning of come and slick slipping out of his hole. His thong won’t hold all of it back forever. He’s so thankful the event organizer didn’t make the performers use handheld microphones. Victor would have dropped it for certain. Many times. 

The first three notes of the stupid sarcastic love song Victor wrote to shove it to his bosses begins to play on the violin. It surprisingly ends up on No. 2 at its peak on the Billboards, and it’s a boat floating in the mass ocean of autotune, synthetic orchestras, and synthetic bands. It’s a cascading and slow song befitting the style of pre-Agape, back when he was merely Victor Nikiforov. 

Victor’s eyes glance upwards, and he sees _ him. _

That alpha who has thoroughly ravished Victor in the restroom and appears unfettered and extraordinarily composed. He sits in the private box of the most generous donors, away from the cameras and everyone else, high above Victor and the sea of filled seats. 

Their eyes meet. 

The alpha smiles, tilting his head in a nod. 

A little string deep inside of Victor tingles, vibrating positively with fierce energy. The befuddled orchestra replays Victor’s starting verse, a little more insistently. 

And Victor begins to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! If you want to enable me. XD


	2. Fucking Machines ft. Double Penetration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Underwear</strike> | <strike>Sleepy Sex</strike> | Fucking Machines | <strike>Stripping/Striptease</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm. . . Porn? Everyone is an enabler, I swear.

_ Katsuki Yuuri, _ the card says in pale minimalist design. _ New York City (212) XXX-XXXX | Tokyo 81-30-XXX-XXXX _

It doesn't describe his employer, his job, his living, or even his email. Victor once looked up his name and found nothing about Katsuki Yuuri. Not even the Kennedy Center website list him as their donors. 

Victor is intrigued. He called the alpha two days after the Honors and met a generic voicemail. The omega nervously left a message, quite certain he butchered the entire message. On the positive side, Victor did remember to leave his phone number. 

Now a week later since the Honors, he plops supine onto his bed and sighs. He runs his fingers over his smooth belly, the evidence of their coupling long gone. In the depths of the night, away from any ears or persons, Victor fantasies about not being on birth-controlling supressments that day. The alpha’s seed would have taken, he is quite sure. He would have walked out of that restroom pregnant indeed. 

The phone dings. It dings again. And again. 

Victor rolls over and reaches for his phone. He retrieves it from his nightstand, blinking at the unfamiliar number. Michigan area code, strangely enough. 

_ (313) XXX-XXXX _

Hi, it’s Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki. 

We met at the Kennedy Center. 

I’m sorry for the late reply. I just got your message. The NYC number is my work phone. This is my personal. 

Yuuri!

( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

Hello, Agape. 

Call me Victor.

Okay, Victor. 

Are you still in DC?

Left two weeks ago.

I’m back in Beverly Hills.

I have a tech conference to attend in Tokyo. This thursday. 

I’ll be flying from New York but could make a stop in LAX for a day. If you want. 

Which date and time?

My schedule is the worst.

Tuesday. From 5am to 10pm. PST.

I have a 12am flight. 

* * *

Victor merely canceled a photoshoot with _ New York Times _ to get that Tuesday date with Yuuri. The omega’s schedule is indeed filled to the brink with interviews, studio visits, business talks, and discussions with his songwriter, Yuri Plisetsky. Yuri's been trying to make it big for two years but has yet to find his song to truly break out. 

"The garbage you write is mediocre!" screams the omega songwriter, the wall speakers nearly exploding with Yuri's voice. Yuri has completely ignored the cancelation of their meeting and simply taken to an impromptu phone conference instead. "What is with this shitty love song?" 

"Well, the boss wanted the next album to connect to those happily in love—" 

"Since when did you care about what the bosses think?" yells Yuri. 

With fingers fluffing through his long silver hair, Victor stares longingly at the end call button on his phone. 

"Where's the 'I hate my bosses', ‘Love your neighbor’, 'Love of money kills us all', and 'Go fuck yourself' songs? The songs that made you relevant!" 

"Yuri," sings Victor. "Did you just admit you like those songs?" 

A pause. 

"I NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT THAT, YOU DUMB IDIOTIC FOOL. MORON! THEY ARE ALL OUTDATED MUSIC. ONE OF THESE DAYS, JUST WAIT AND SEE, I WILL BEAT YOUR STUPID SALE RECORDS AND—" 

The doorbell chimes. 

"Sorry, Yuri! I have a guest! Later!" Victor quickly ends call and then powers down his phone, tossing it somewhere on his couch. He pulls on a comfortable but sexy hot pink babydoll that barely disguises his white thong and saunters over to the security feed. Yuuri Katsuki, wearing a rather nice dark suit sans tie, stands in front of the lobby’s camera, waving though he can’t see the omega. Victor runs a finger over the expanse of his suit jacket on the screen and then buzzes him in. 

It takes a minute for Yuuri to get to the fifth floor of the building, because the elevator goes only to the fourth and then a set of stairs behind a security desk and keypad-guarded door takes him to the fifth. Paparazzi always have a difficult time getting into the building, but it never hurts to be extra prepared. 

That one minute is just enough time for Victor to get settled on the grey chaise lounge to lay seductively in perfect view of the door. Victor forces himself not to move. He has to see the expression on Yuuri’s face and remember it forever in his memories. His palm begins to sweat as the seconds drag their limp feet forward. 

The alpha prowls through Victor’s front door, carrying some sort of colorfully wrapped box. Victor could pinpoint the exact moment when Yuuri notices him, the exact moment where the serene expression on the alpha’s face becomes fierce determination, the moment where he drops the box not-so-gently and practically dives to the end of the chaise lounge. 

Kneeling before him, Yuuri barely restrains himself from touching Victor. His wild passionate eyes meets Victor’s, the endless abyss of desire reflecting so easily between alpha and omega. 

"Good morning. Had a nice flight?" purrs Victor. 

The alpha growls. "I don't remember the flight when I have you dressed like this in front of me." 

"Oh," the omega gasps. How flattering. 

An arm sweep themselves under his leg, and Yuuri easily lifts him up in a princess carry. "You must have a bed somewhere. I would hate to ruin your furniture." 

Victor directs him through a door and then a hallway, turning here and there. Yuuri, smelling distantly of airport cigarette smoke and cedar aftershave, finds the California king-sized bed covered with thick comforters of sleek silver thread. The omega is gently settled against the many pillows, watching with bedroom eyes as the alpha slowly and teasingly strip off his suit jacket. 

He folds and then places it on the chest of drawers, pausing to look at the innocent-looking black box sitting in front of it. On its side is the company logo, _ Athenas. _

The omega should have filed it away or maybe prevented Yuuri from entering his bedroom, if he had remembered it was there. Victor feels sweat forming at the back of his neck. Embarrassment pools in his stomach. Yet, he could also feel himself growing achingly hard. 

"Victor," calmly says Yuuri, gesturing at the box. “What is this?” His eyes glimmer knowingly. 

“A music box,” Victor lies, his voice suddenly dry. 

“Hmm. I bet it makes you sing the sweetest songs,” teasingly whispers Yuuri, licking his lips. "Use this often?" 

"No," Victor answers, drawling out his answer. It's true. He only uses it when he has heats and don't have the time to find a partner. Anticipation crawls up the omega’s spine when the alpha’s scent turns from arousal to gleeful arousal. 

A predatory glint sharpens Yuuri's eyes. He pulls his belt out of the belt loops and places it on top of his jacket. "Would you like to demonstrate it for me?" 

That’s how Victor finds himself sticking his ass up in open invitation as he sets up the fucking machine in bottom center of the bed. He attaches the rod to the piston and makes sure it’s secure. Yuuri, eyes heavy and loaded on the omega, casually sits at the cushioned chair in front of the makeup table with only his white dress shirt and simple black slacks on. The top two buttons near his throat are unbuttoned. 

Victor wiggles his backside at the alpha, but Yuuri doesn’t take the bait. Crawling off the bed and connecting the power cord to the outlet, Victor intentionally allows the right spaghetti strap slip off his shoulder. Yuuri still doesn’t lose control. Pushing back his silver hair with an impatient groan, Victor dumps the remaining contents of the black box onto the bed and stares intently at the wide selection of dildos. He reaches for the large sparkling purple knotting dildo, only to be stopped by a hand wrapping itself around his wrist. 

“Let me,” murmurs Yuuri. “Lay down. No peeking.” 

Obeying with tingles running down his spine, Victor lays on his side, staring at the decorated walls with picture frames of generic empty beaches and his beloved poodle. Thin white curtains fully cover the expansive windows, hiding them away from prying views and cameras. He hears Yuuri securing whichever dildo he has selected and putting the rest of them away into the box. 

“On your knees and elbows. Don’t look,” Yuuri orders, confidence seeping into his voice. Victor wants to see Yuuri dominate him to the point he drowns in the force of Yuuri’s _ eros. _

Victor pushes himself up, letting his body be guided by Yuuri onto his fours and lined up to the awaiting dildo. He looks at his pillows, not quite seeing anything. Yuuri pushes up the babydoll, letting it be wrapped and wrinkled around in bunches around the omega’s waist. A single finger teasingly runs over the base of Victor’s cocklet and over his eager hole, the slick eagerly wetting his thong. 

Then Yuuri pulls the thong aside, exposing Victor's cunt to cool air. A second passes. Then another. Victor wiggles a little, ready to open his mouth to beg but for what, he does not know. 

Yuuri works the remote control. Something soft and silicon rests just against Victor's pussy lips. The machine quietly works in, steadily and methodically. Torturously slow. Victor easily accommodates it, clenching his muscles around the dildo. It's not a knotting dildo, judging from its girth. It’s long, though. A considerable number of inches. 

Yuuri bestows a kiss on the small of Victor’s back. Low and intense, he murmurs, “I wonder if you could tell which toy is in you, Victor. If you can tell me, without looking, the exact color and design.”

Victor moans. “Not knotting,” he chokes out. 

Yuuri kisses a little lower, right above Victor’s ass. It’s warm and surprisingly gentle, the kiss fanning the heat inside of Victor’s core. “Not inflatable?” 

“Don’t own any.” 

Another kiss appears, right on Victor’s tailbone and the fabric of his thong. “You know your collection well. Can you tell me what color?”

Shuddering under the slow thrust of the machine, Victor takes a stab in the dark. “The sparkling pink silicon! With veins! The second smallest one!” He grunts as the dildo drags along even slower. 

Then the machine stops. 

“Very good, Victor.” Yuuri’s praise washes over Victor like being wrapped in the softest, warmest blankets. “I think answering most of the questions correctly deserve a reward. What do you want, Victor?” 

Victor moans. “You. In me.” 

“As you wish,” Yuuri replies. 

Victor hears Yuuri leave the bed. The dildo slips out of Victor’s hole. Yuuri is clearly making adjustments to the machines, but Victor could not puzzle out Yuuri’s next move. He stays still in his position, still on all fours, all his muscles aching in sweet tingles. 

Now completely naked, Yuuri slips underneath Victor. He smiles at him, his skin flushed with pleasure. He whispers, “If this gets too much for you, tell me.” 

Victor’s heart race. “What are you doing?”

Yuuri smirks. “It’s a surprise. Now relax.” 

Yuuri’s hands guide Victor’s hips, allowing the omega to sink onto Yuuri’s weeping hard cock. Victor’s cunt smoothly welcomes the alpha home, gliding in like a dream. It’s so much bigger than the dildo and is _ exactly _what he needs. Victor relaxes his elbow, settling his weight onto the alpha. He wiggles, eager for a little friction. 

Yuuri’s grip tightens on the omega’s hipbone. “Not yet.” The alpha suddenly sits up, twisting Victor up with him. Holding tight onto the alpha's neck, Victor has to thank years of dance classes for letting him retaining his flexibility as his spine bends backwards. The alpha shuffles them back until Victor feels something else against his hole. 

"Oh, fuck," curses Victor, immediately understanding Yuuri's devious intentions. The machine starts up again, slowly, just for a second. It tugs at the edge of Victor's cunt, merely awaiting entrance. "Oh, yes, please." 

Yuuri reaches down, pushing the slick-covered pink dildo in alongside his cock. He reaches for the remote and fumbles with the controls. When the head of the dildo is completely in, Victor feels incredibly full and stuffed. Delirious with want, the omega barely notices when the alpha pulls them back down to the bed. Victor is limp, his eyes closed and mouth open with soft moans drawn out. He’s quite certain slick is running down his thighs just from pure arousal. 

"Victor." 

The omega breathes, nuzzling against the alpha's neck. Right next to the heavenly scent gland. "Yes?" 

"Don't you dare keep your eyes off of me." 

Then Yuuri hits the switch for the fucking machine and tosses the remote control. The tiny black remote sails out of Victor’s view. The dildo quickly moves against Yuuri’s cock, pushing deep inside of Victor and then withdrawing out halfway in a rush. The fucking machine pistons at a fast pace, barely allowing Victor the ability to even _ think. _ The omega’s eyes could barely focus on Yuuri, as per the alpha’s command. But he does not miss the blown-out awe in Yuuri’s eyes, and most of all, he does not miss how downright _ evil _ Yuuri is, especially when Yuuri begins to move. 

Yuuri hoists Victor up, rocking them. The headboard shakes with them, banging against the wall. Yuuri's cock thrusts in at a different pace than the perfect rhythm of the fucking machine. Victor's eyes roll back when both dildo and cock drive into his cunt at exactly the same time. 

"Knot me," Victor begs. 

With a growl, Yuuri pulls Victor off the toy and rolls them over so the omega lies on the bed. Powerful muscles contract as he fucks the omega, varying angles. Victor feels the beginnings of his knot, and he holds Yuuri even tighter, helpless as he soars and finally peaks when the knot is shoved in and rapidly expands.

* * *

Victor wakes up surrounded by the body heat of another body. He opens his bleary eyes and finds himself cleaned, warmed by Yuuri’s naked form. Yuuri must have wiped him, cleaning up the mess of slick and come. Yuuri’s face presses against the omega’s scent gland, his expression relaxed, soft, and vulnerable. There’s a bit of dried drool at the corner of his mouth. 

Victor wraps his arms around the alpha’s waist and purrs himself to sleep.


	3. Food Play ft. Oral Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Tentacles</strike> | Food Play | <strike>Tribadism/Scissoring</strike> | <strike>Weight Gain</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. . . I still have a bit of shame left.

Victor wakes up in the bed alone. He sighs, wondering if it was past Yuuri's departure time. He blinks, rolling over and noticing the blackout curtains have been pulled to make the light dimmer. The omega climbs out of his bed, pulls off the babydoll in favor of an American Idiot World Tour t-shirt and bikini underwear, and walks out of his bedroom in search of his phone. Victor settles in the cushioned armchair of parlour, grabbing his phone and turning it on. Dozens of text messages from Yuri smashes through the screen. 

Victor ignores them all. None from Yuuri. Then he sees one text from Chris, his manager. Call me, it simply says. 

"Hey, Chris. What's up?" 

"The lawyers looked at every inch of that contract. I don't think you can remove his name out of the profits unless you shell out your own money to buy all the contracts." 

Victor sighs. "Not an option." 

Those contracts are worth enough to break his bank. Plus, he'll have to go into debt. Debt from attending Juilliard was what got him into this mess.

"You stay with Sony, and you'll have to release two more albums or else nothing legally could be. Plus, you still can't strikeout his name." 

Victor pinches the bridge of his nose. "How goes Yuri?" 

"I'm trying to convince him to go indie. He doesn't need a traditional recording company. Plus, all those shitty contracts can really ruin a career." 

"Yeah, tell me about it," sarcastically says Victor. He tilts his head to one side, lowering the phone as he strains his ears. The sound of a piano floats by. Frowning, Victor wonders it seems so incredibly loud. The neighbors downstairs with their fancy keyboard, which is capable of playing only “Moonlight Sonata”, never turns up the volume. 

"Victor?" 

"Chris, I got to go." Victor ends call. 

The omega follows the sound of music, listening intently. The notes roll over, capturing a certain feeling. A feeling like chasing love and joy. There's a story written in the song. 

Victor pushes the door wider to his songwriting room. Shirtless with only slacks on, Yuuri sits at the old, ratty spinet. Victor recalls with a wince of the embarrassing brown flakes of paint ruining his floor and several keys that are permanently out of tune. He notes the alpha is hyper-focused on the piano, playing an unfamiliar song. His pale long fingers race over the keys, the music falling and rising. His pale chest breathes in and out, every muscle defined. There’s a bit of pudge around his stomach, perhaps the evidence of eating extremely well over the years. His hands suddenly pause, the alpha’s eyebrows knitted in concentration. 

“Is that from somewhere?” asks Victor, breaking the silence. 

Yuuri’s hands slip to his lap. He turns to face the omega. “No, I’ve been working on it since I was a teenager.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s been missing something. A part of it. I’m not sure what, but maybe I’ll figure it out when I have more time.” He pauses. “Did you know that eight keys are completely out of tune?”

Leaning against the doorway with hands combing through his silver hair, Victor laughs. “Yes. It’s a forty plus year old spinet with keys that can’t be fixed by any professional for some reason. The previous owner told me that the previous owner got it from someone else, who got it from a flea market. I assume it lived a vast and rich history before it ended up in the flea market.”

“Do you work on it? When you write songs?”

“I wrote  _ Life and Love _ on this piano. Back in college. My first album.” Victor weakly smiles. The first album, his first big break at twenty-one. There are two albums after that:  _ Five Years _ and  _ Striking Fake Gold.  _ 100 million albums sold, and Victor only made 40 million off it due to numerous constraints in his contract. Of course, it is still quite a lot, but if he had a better contract, that money would be at least 300 million. He’s been having an in-house battle with his leaching parasite of a recording company for the last two years. His fans have taken to Twitter, wondering why he hasn’t released anything new since last year. Victor was fairly consistent, releasing one album per year until he realized how much of an asshole Sony Music and his producer are after talking to Ed Sheeran. 

“I love that album. It’s quite melancholy. Like you have been searching for so long for a greater meaning, some purpose to love, but you’re still looking. It’s a great album that tackles the fear of the unknown. When I first heard it on the radio while driving in London, I was surprised.”

“Why surprised?”

“You surprised me. You had depth the other songs didn’t have. All the other songs are stereotypically about how ‘tonight is the night of our lives and we got to live like it’s the best and last night we’ll ever live.’ You flipped the lyrics and dived deep into topics few songs talk about.” Yuuri looks at Victor with shiny eyes, genuinely speaking. 

“What’s your favorite song?”

Without hesitating, he answers, “‘Makkachin.’ My dog, Vicchan, passed away four years ago. What you sang for your dog touched my heart.” 

“I would be lost if Makkachin. . .” Victor can’t even finish the sentence. She’s a fairly young dog, only six years old. But he, like every other dog owner who loves their dog as much as their firstborn child, always fears that day. Dog lives are far shorter than a human’s. 

A long pause. 

“Where is Makkachin?” Yuuri asks, changing the subject. 

“Doggy spa. Then she’ll be in doggy daycare until tonight.”

“You don't have to send her to daycare. I love dogs. Especially poodles." Yuuri then looks contemplate and reaches for the colorful box on top of the piano. "But maybe it is a good thing that she isn't here today. I forgot to give you this earlier." Yuuri rises from the creaking bench and presents a wrapped box to the omega. 

Victor takes it and slowly pulls the bow apart. 

"I'm almost tempted," Yuuri whispers, absentmindedly running his hands over the worn piano keys. 

"Tempted?"

Yuuri hums. "To buy you a piano." 

Victor pauses, looking up from the intricately wrapped box. He sees the alpha glancing back at the piano. "The piano works alright." 

Yuuri turns his head, his eyes fiercely bright. "Oh, it's not about that." He stalks closer to the omega, his voice dropping into a purr. "I want to buy you a grand piano for a very selfish reason. I'm going to fuck you on top of it." 

Victor's throat is suddenly parched. "I would say that is very selfish." 

"Will you let me?"

"There's very few things I will not let you do," Victor admits, speaking the whole truth without thinking. 

Yuuri smiles. He gestures to the box. "Then let me open that?" 

Victor hands the box back and follows the alpha back into the bedroom. Following his instincts, Victor's arms wrap themselves around the alpha's midsection. He lightly scents Yuuri, just a little on the possessive side. He gives the alpha a low purr when he’s lifted back onto the bed. He folds his legs, his eyes following Yuuri around the bed. 

“No peeking,” Yuuri tells him, easily opening the box. He’s a little out of sight. Only a turn of Victor’s head would allow him to see the contents of the box. “Close your eyes.” 

Victor obeys, quite curious. 

Yuuri raises something to Victor's nose. "Smell this." 

The omega does. The distinctive smell instantly registers. "Chocolate," he realizes in surprise. 

"Dutch chocolate." Withdrawing the treat, Yuuri pauses. "I should have asked earlier. But do you have any allergies to nuts or anything?" 

"No," cheerfully answers the omega. His nose follows the smell to where it's most intense, his mouth wraps around the entire bonbon and two of Yuuri's fingertips. He sucks around the fingers, moaning at the way the chocolate, which is not too sweet and perfectly flavored with plum, melts in his mouth. Eyes still closed, he savors and then swallows the chocolate down and takes extra time licking every bit of chocolate off of Yuuri's finger. 

Victor, accidentally drooling, releases his hold. He blinks at Yuuri and says, "Trindad." 

“Huh?” The alpha tilts his head, so similar to Makkachin, in confusion. 

“The origin of the cocoa.” 

Yuuri blushes. “I wouldn’t know much about cocoa origins. All I know is that these taste fantastic and must be eaten within ten days of purchasing or else they’ll go back. So you have seven days to finish them.” 

The omega raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

The alpha holds out another bonbon in offering, the chocolate melting in his hands. “I was in Europe last week. Went to Frankfurt, which is in Germany. Then took the train to Netherlands. Stopped by Amsterdam at a shop called Puccini Bomboni. Thought of you when I saw these in the window. Took a plane back to New York City. And now, I’m here with you. There's two boxes here. Two pounds. The opera box is quite popular. I chose the other one called Turandot for its hot chocolate.” 

Smiling, the omega wickedly tells him, "Then I must thank you for the gift." He winks at Yuuri. “Are you okay with having chocolate on you?”

One minute later, Yuuri’s briefs are off someplace, somewhere. Victor surely doesn’t care. He has his alpha naked, after all. Victor has the alpha supine on the bed, biting his lips to unsuccessfully muffle the moan that escapes when Victor uses Yuuri’s chocolate-covered hand to rub melted artisan chocolate over his dick. Kneeling down, Victor sticks out his pale pink tongue and lightly licks on the vein, tasting cranberry chocolate and the faintest taste of precum. It stands hard and proud amidst the sticking melted chocolate. 

Victor has never felt so hungry. 

“Victor.” Yuuri breaks the silence. His voice is deceptively calm, but his other hand grips the pillow in a harsh clench. “You take anymore time, and I don’t think I could be blamed for what happens next.”

“Yuuri,” sings Victor. “The pre-chorus is a major part of my performance. It can’t be rushed.” Victor pushes his long untied hair behind his shoulder. Victor takes the alpha’s hand and slowly licks up the sweet chocolate finger by finger. The pinky. Then the next. He teasingly sucks the chocolate off the middle finger’s tip. He slips Yuuri’s entire finger him and then pulls out, bobbing up and down a few times to clean the finger exceptionally well. He takes in the entire index finger, staring tauntingly at Yuuri’s glinted eyes. He pulls out and moves on. He sucks insistently at a stubborn spot on the thumb. 

Victor pulls back with a pop. “What do you think?”

“I’m thinking of how to repay the favor,” Yuuri answers, his voice steady. 

The omega’s heart skips a beat. Leaning forward once again and sticking his butt up, he starts on the chocolate-covered cock with a light lick around its head. It strains, angrily engorged. All for him. Just for him. 

Victor tilts his head, nibbling off the chocolate on the side of the shaft. He teasingly mouths the side for a second and then two. Lightly scrapes his teeth, which triggers a sharp gasp from Yuuri. 

Victor smiles. 

The omega’s mouth takes in Yuuri’s cock slowly, amazed when he is unable to fit all of it into him. His hand squeezes and rubs what he couldn’t fit in. Yuuri’s fist clenches harder, nearly destroying the pillow. Victor pulls back, letting the motions and instincts carry him through. The alpha’s cock doesn’t taste like chocolate anymore. He’s almost disappointed that Yuuri doesn’t lose control under his gratitude. Almost. 

When Yuuri tenses and then shouts a warning, Victor doesn’t pull away at all. Instead, he forces the cock even deeper until it hits the back of his throat. Seed spurts, threatening to spill out of Victor’s mouth. 

Victor swallows every drop, sucking even harder, careful not to waste. He releases the cock from his lips with a soft purr. 

Yuuri quickly sits up and reaches for a bonbon from the open box. "Now. My turn." In a sudden motion, he easily flips the omega over. 

The chocolate hasn't melted completely by the time Yuuri has his lips wrapped  _ hard _ around Victor's cocklet. He works his hot, wet mouth up and down furiously, a man intent on one mission. When Victor comes, shooting slick through his cocklet, Yuuri blows him and uses his tongue in mind-boggling ways. 

Two fingers of his cleaner hand dives in, scissoring and searching. 

Victor's skin protests. "Oh, oh. Please," he begs. "I don't think I can come again." 

Yuuri mercifully pauses. Calm and so ridiculously collected with his mouth devilishly breathing next to Victor's cocklet, he innocently replies, "But Victor. You already did." 

He puts his mouth back to work, his fingers pumping. Three fingers dive in, driving the omega delirious with pleasure. A finger pushes against his prostate, and Victor shoves desperately against Yuuri's face. He can feel it, it's  _ so close—  _

And he peaks. 

Once Victor is satisfied and curled up against Yuuri, the alpha begins to move, as if to climb out of bed. 

Victor whines. 

“I know that even though you’ve probably thoroughly cleaned the chocolate off my dick, I still recommend a shower.”

“Yuuri,” the omega pouts. 

“We’ll share.” 

They actually end up in Victor’s ridiculously huge bathtub that could probably fit six people with enough paddling room for Makkachin. Victor’s back presses up against Yuuri, feeling warm and well-cocooned by the alpha. 

“Yuuri.”

“Hmm?”

“Was the chocolate fair trade certified?”

Yuuri stops nuzzling the omega. He smells confused, his scent drawing away from arousal. “What do you mean by fair trade?”

The omega whimpers in horror. “Ethical, sustainable producers who don’t hire child laborers or pay people at pennies per day. There are no slaves or indentured servants working for these companies, and no one is suffering to produce raw materials in poorer countries. Where they don’t exploit people and rip them off millions and billions of dollars and drive them in a never ending cycle of poverty. That is fair trade.” 

Taking it all in, the alpha presses a gentle kiss on the back of the omega’s neck. “I’m sorry I don’t know.” He gives another kiss, this time on the shoulder. Slowly and surely but also apologetically. “It seems like a good cause.”

Victor pushes away from Yuuri, dragging himself out of the alpha’s embrace. He frowns at the alpha. “Just a good cause? This isn’t only good for the people. This is good for the world. Financially lifting out economics, giving people opportunity to thrive. Even though those things that aren’t fair trade are cheaper, in the end, it comes back to bite you.” Victor climbs out of the bathtub completely naked, his nose upturned. He knows he’s leaving quite a mess of water on pristine cream-colored tiles. “You can see yourself out.”

* * *

At four o’clock in the morning, when Victor is quite certain Yuuri Katsuki is on the plane to Tokyo, he finally calms down, realizes how overreacted he went at Yuuri, and texts an apology. Makkachin snores at his feet. 

Yuuri Katsuki

I’m sorry I went off on you.

I don’t like people being exploited. For anything, whether for their labor, intellectual properties, their bodies, and their wages. 

I feel that. . .

No person should ever be used that way.

* * *

When Victor wakes up at eight in the morning, he’s unsurprised to find no reply from Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if Puccini Bomboni is indeed fair trade. But I'm for fair trade. I support it (when I can; capitalism does not make it easy for a college student to buy fair trade goods when there are cheaper alternatives that probably use slave/impoverished laborers; nor does it make it easy to protest anything). Anyone who has or hasn't taken an international relations class (Political Science) can read up about world systems theory, which I wholeheartedly believe in. It's really sad how exploitive we are, of not just other people but also the limited and nonrenewable natural resources the world possesses. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for coming to the most random impromptu political science lecture.


	4. Mirror Sex ft. Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Masochism/Sadism</strike> | <strike>Orgasm Delay/Denial</strike> | <strike>Feederism</strike> | Mirror Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. Hi.

Yuuri Katsuki

Arrived in Tokyo. 

Victor.

Never apologize for what you are passionate for. 

I love seeing your passion in all possible forms. 

I’m sorry for not understanding about fair trade. 

I promise I will study it. To understand.

* * *

They seem to move on from that. Victor texts and messages Yuuri daily, sending him pictures of Makkachin and himself in bizarre Agape Trademarked outfits that have been pictured a thousand times over by the paparazzi. In return, Yuuri texts a few photos of Japan. From the pristine trees in the park to the crowded high-speed rails to the boring offices with its drones. Then Yuuri is traveling again. He snaps pictures of his home town, sharing the ninja house and the beach with the omega. 

Then Victor is traveling again for his world tour, and so is Yuuri. He takes pictures of Las Vegas while Yuuri shows candid pictures of Singapore. For the next three weeks, Victor suspects that the world conspires to keep them apart on opposite sides of the globe. Yuuri flies to Thailand for a meeting while Victor hops into Vancouver to perform. He's in New York City for Day 2 of 5 when Yuuri texts him that he's flying to Germany tomorrow. 

When Victor goes backstage on Day 5 to greet the VIPs and to take selfies, he finds a small group of people waiting after the performance. He methodically greets his fans, occasionally giving them hugs and always signing his autograph on whatever they want within reason. Many of the selfies are uploaded onto Twitter and Tumblr within the next two hours. He works down the line until he arrives at the last VIP.

"Can I have more than a photo?" asks a familiar voice. 

Victor looks up. "Yuuri," he breathes, tingles dancing down his spine. 

The alpha flashes a wide smile, and behind his blue-rimmed glasses, his dark brown eyes sparkle. Clothed by a dark form-fitting suit sans tie and expensive loafers, Yuuri out dresses everyone at this concert. Even Victor, who is still wearing artful straps of glittery paper origami as a fancy colorful dress. They'll have to tear apart the creation to break him out of the dress. 

“I’ll text you my hotel and room number. Let me find the key,” Victor says, resisting the urge to start dancing in pure joy. “I’ll be out of here in an hour.”

* * *

He finds Yuuri sitting rod-straight on the palour's sofa with a beautiful wrapped box on the coffee table. He slowly sips water from a glass cup and then stands up when Victor walks in through the front door. His black suit jacket lays on the armchair, placed carefully to avoid wrinkles. With sleeves rolled up to his elbow, Yuuri gently places the cup on a coaster and then reaches for the blue-purple box. 

“I have something for you.”

“Is it clothes?” wonders Victor, pulling off his long coat and plopping it on the decorative table by the door. He kicks off his sneakers and pulls off his socks without hands. 

“Sort of.” Yuuri presents it to the omega. “I noticed the weather is getting colder in Beverly Hills. Lots of wind. So I thought you might like this.” 

Victor tears apart the paper and lifts away the white tissue paper. He gasps at two pairs of tiny dog boots in tasteful, subdued, patterned pink-grey wool. The outsole is made of ribbed rubber, designed for maximum traction and diminished chance of slipping. 

“This is so Makkachin could have her feet protected and warm when she goes on strolls,” explains Yuuri, pointing at the wool body of the shoe. “This is wool, sourced from South America. Specifically from small farms in Andes. The dyes for the color come from plants and insects created by female artisans in Guatemala. The rubber of the outsole is made from recycled shoes in California." 

There's a growing wetness at the corner of Victor's eyes. He doesn't deny to himself that it's tears.

"I'm not very good with fashion, and I don't know if it'll clash with her look. I have tailors telling me what to wear so I don't look washed out," babbles Yuuri, fidgeting nervously. "I had to guess Makkachin's size, and I don't know if she'll like them, but—"

The omega quickly embraces the alpha, careful not to squish the shoes. "I love it. They're perfect." 

He darts away and bends over to place the box on the coffee table, subtly shaking his backside. Demurely, Victor wonders aloud, "How could I repay you for this?" 

The alpha shakes his head. Voice thick and low, he replies, “You don’t have to repay me, Victor. Just seeing the smile on your face is enough for me.” 

His cheeks redden, surprised and touched by Yuuri’s words. Then in a flash of quick thinking, Victor says, “Then I guess you don’t want my gratitude?” He throws Yuuri a trademark wink, pleased to see the alpha stumble in his thoughts for once. He flips his hair dismissively. “Alright, that’s completely—”

In an instant, Yuuri captures the omega and lifts him into his arms. Nuzzling against the younger man’s scent gland, he huskily whispers, “Oh, if it’s that kind of gratitude, I think it would be difficult to reject it. In fact, it would be _ very immoral _ to reject this gratitude.” 

Victor feels something cool and smooth against his back. He turns to find the spotless full length mirror, seeing Yuuri’s wolfish eyes greedily drinking in every bit of the omega in the clear reflection. He shivers under his forceful gaze. It’s like Yuuri wishes to devour every bit of him and will still be hungry afterwards. Endlessly famished. 

He loves it. 

Keeping the omega cornered against the mirror, Yuuri slowly pulls off Victor’s v-neck. It gets tossed somewhere over Yuuri’s head without a second thought. Yuuri quickly kneels on the carpet, his hands smooth over Victor’s skin. He teasingly brushes by both of his nipples, watching them harden. Then Yuuri’s fingers, long and pale, make quick work of the omega’s zipper and then jeans. Victor kicks it away, nearly naked under the alpha’s eyes. The alpha tugs at the band and lets it go. A little snap cracks when the elastic returns to Victor’s skin. The alpha raises an eyebrow. “A thong again?” 

“I love thongs,” Victor protests. 

Marveled, Yuuri runs a finger along the fabric. “It’s so breakable.” 

Mindlessly, the words slip out. “Do it.”

Yuuri doesn’t even hesitate. A quick pull of his hand, and it’s off and forgotten, revealing the hard, proud cocklet. Yuuri doesn't even acknowledge it, quickly stripping himself of his clothes. Victor's eyes follow every inch of bare skin, trying to brand these moments into his memories, so deep that even if he develops dementia later in his life, he'll still remember how fantastic Yuuri was in his life. 

Yuuri rises, safely setting down his glasses and kicking away his own pants, and then pushes the omega into the mirror. The flat surface is cold but quickly warming up. Yuuri's lips, a bit chapped, captures Victor's mouth. Their naked bodies fuse together, Yuuri's hard dripping cock rising to poke at the omega's stomach. Victor's heart race. This is the first time that they have kissed since the Kennedy Center Honors. A month and a half ago. A little voice inside Victor begs him to keep this alpha forever. He thinks it may just be his dick talking. 

"Victor," whispers Yuuri, pulling back. His half-lidded brown eyes blink at the omega. "You're thinking entirely too much." Then his hand brushes down Victor’s side until he’s tugging at the omega’s leg and lifting his legs around his waist, pushing Victor against the mirror like pinning down a butterfly with its beautiful wings stretched. His hard cock rubs against the omega’s slicked hole, not entering at all and reminding Victor of how empty and _ aching _ he is, and oh, Victor’s absolutely not thinking anything at all— 

“I wish you can see yourself,” he whispers, nipping close to Victor’s scent gland. Yuuri, the omega has noticed, likes to dance around the scent gland, viciously teasing about a more permanent sort of claiming without ever mentioning a thing. “You’re so beautiful, you know,” he adds, nuzzling against Victor’s face and then rubbing his own scent gland over Victor’s. Possessively marking the omega as his own, at least for this moment in time. 

Victor loves it. 

Slowly, the alpha’s cock penetrates Victor’s wet cunt. Inch by inch, it slides in so well and hot, plunging deep into the omega. He’ll feel him and his knot for days, Victor knows. Once Yuuri has Victor wrapped completely around him, he begins thrusting against Victor, forcing the mirror to shake at its screws. Victor doesn’t give a crap, he’ll pay the damn repair bill in little coins if he has to. 

“You feel so good,” gasps the alpha. He picks up speed, his hands sneaking from Victor’s legs to his hips. Victor clings tight, holding onto the alpha and never letting him go. A hand curls into Yuuri’s gelled hair, messing up its style. It suits him, Victor thinks. Marred by him, a mark, some proof that normally-composed Yuuri was wrecked in some measure by the omega. 

Yuuri suddenly pauses in his thrusts, his muscles barely straining to hold the omega’s weight. His lips brushes by Victor. An alluring whisper of words. “Victor, come on. Let’s see yourself.” He untangles Victor’s legs and sets him back down. “Turn for me, omega,” he purrs, touching the small of Victor’s back to guide him. 

“Yuuri?” He’s almost begging. 

The alpha shushes him. “Trust me.” He positions the omega’s hands on the wall, on each side of the mirror, his lips brushing against the back of Victor’s neck. “Now, see yourself. Can you see what I see?” 

He can. 

Victor’s not sure if he can truly recognize the creature in the mirror, so lost in the throes of pleasure and lust. He sees himself, wild-haired in messy, tangled silver strands all around his half-bent body. His flushed skin of his chest, so close and far from his completion, and his jutting, weeping, untouched cocklet. He sees the glistening of slick dripping down his inner thighs. Maybe some of Yuuri’s precum there, too. But even more important is Yuuri, standing right behind him, his teeth mouthing the back of his neck ferociously, careful to never break skin and draw blood. His eyes blink, squinting a little at their reflection. Yuuri spreads apart Victor’s feet, his hand reaching for his hip and the other gently reopening Victor’s hole, preparing for his cock again. 

It’s almost embarrassingly easy for Yuuri to enter Victor again. Victor has lost almost all of his shame at the Kennedy Center. Yuuri drives himself into Victor’s wet hole, pulling back in a squelch of slick. “You’re so stretched for me. Taking my cock like you’re made for it,” Yuuri growls, setting a fast pace. “Can you imagine how full you’ll feel by morning? All the come locked inside of you.” 

Victor moans, his back arching. 

“No one will remember what you looked like before you were filled with all of my come,” whispers Yuuri, groaning when Victor’s muscles clenched his cock even harder than before. “You’ll keep me inside of you forever, wouldn’t you?” 

The last thing he sees before climaxing hard is the unmistakable expansion of his stomach as his body accommodates Yuuri’s growing knot and the plugged come shot deep into his cervix.

* * *

Messy and entangled in a heap of limbs and blankets, the two men lay together on the plush bed. Victor listens to the steady rhythm of Yuuri’s heart, savoring every strong beat. Yuuri gently combs Victor’s hair, untangling each silver-blond strand. 

“Victor.”

“Hmm?” Victor blinks, moving a little to absorb every expression of Yuuri’s face. He’s much softer without his glasses and so vulnerable. 

“Honestly, Victor, you don’t need to pay back my gifts with anything. You don’t have to sleep with me, you don’t have to do anything for me. You don’t owe me anything. You mean much more than that.”

“I think a thank you card would at least be the standard reply. It’s very rude to ghost someone after they have given you a gift,” points out the omega. He shifts and wraps his arms around the alpha’s back. “But I genuinely like you, Yuuri.” A pause. “And I love having sex with you,” he declares. 

The alpha rolls, resettling his weight. He removes his hand from Victor’s hair, and he ardently whispers, “I like you, too. Just the way you are.”


	5. Temperature Play ft. Orgasm Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Monster/Demon Fucking</strike> | <strike>Impact Play</strike> | Temperature Play | <strike>Asphyxiation</strike>

Waking up slowly, Victor lies on his stomach with warm strands of hair covering his exposed back. Blankets pool around his waist, and Yuuri plays with Victor's hair, combing with his fingers gently. He's on the phone, talking to someone in English. Victor has heard him take a fast phone call in Japanese, and it’s the sexist thing he has ever heard in his life. And that’s including the first time he heard Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” on the radio ten years ago. 

"Look," Yuuri pointedly says into the receiver, clearly resisting an eye roll but that’s only because he’s too polite for it. "Just because the buyer says the price is eighty-five per bulk doesn't mean it's a guaranteed price. You need to get that in writing. Writing. Yes, writing." 

Victor opens his eyes, just a little sliver to see. The pillows are a mess, and he's pleased that Yuuri is still naked from stomach up. From the light streaming in through the windows, it's only early in the morning. 

"Yes, yes. I'm fully aware of the concept of a gentlemen's agreement. Still doesn't mean they have to fulfill their verbal promise." He pauses, listening to some angry squabbling. "It won't hold up in any court of law. Any judge will be laughing as the sheriff shows you the door." 

Victor, suddenly striking up an idea, shifts just a little. He allows himself to breathe evenly, faking sleep. He doubts he's as convincing as Makkachin suspiciously sleeping on her old doggy bed on late mornings when Chris brings around sausage and eggs for breakfast. She's better than Houdini when it comes to sausage.

"I thought your other deal was locked in a contract and done," says Yuuri, extremely peeved. He's not hiding his annoyance anymore but still resisting the eye roll. "It's appalling that you are terribly behind in everything. No, stop. Shut up. Zip. Now. Listen to me. You won't get any investors at all with this sort of mismanagement. This degree of mismanagement and miscommunication is enough to blacklist your name in this industry. You'll never be able to work for any company, not even an one-man company unless you're catering to a small town of ten people in the middle of nowhere." There's squawks of indignation. "Please. I've been working in this business for almost fifteen years. I know it better than the very back of my hand. If you need a Hail Mary, then you better call your in-house contract lawyer and—" The alpha chokes. 

Victor's hand suddenly grip his cock, squeezing it as it slowly increases in size. The omega’s eyes meets Yuuri’s blank brown eyes, and Victor, heart skipping a beat, blinks innocently. 

"Yes, I'm still there." Stoic, Yuuri continues, "I said your in-house lawyer, a couple of engineers, and at least a few of your coworkers. No, not the interns. Not the engineer interns.” A pause as Yuuri listens to the other end. “Definitely not the business interns. Even if they have a doctorate in business. They won't have the experience to navigate the contract, and I doubt, from what I've seen of you, you wouldn't be able either. Swallow your pride and do it." He slaps at his phone screen, ending call and then tilting his head at the omega. 

"Good morning," calmly greets Victor, as if he doesn't have a single hand on the other man's dick. 

"You're very naughty, Victor. Right in the middle of an important phone call." He runs his hand through his messy hair. 

"Didn't sound that important to me," Victor says insolently, rubbing the cock up and down underneath the sheet. 

"That man I was talking to is a supposed expert at fixing contracts. These contracts are worth billions of dollars in future profits over the next five years." 

Victor parts his mouth, his eyes daring Yuuri to make some move. For what, he doesn't know. But oh, holy hell, Yuuri Katsuki in full-on all business mode is extremely attractive. Slick drips to his thigh. He whimpers, desperately touching the alpha. 

Yuuri rolls over, his cock pointing right at Victor and his face merely inches away from the omega's. His palm slides over Victor's engorged cocklet and then slips between his legs, following the lips of his hole. "Wow, so wet. You like me talking business?" 

Victor nods, his back arched as his cunt seek more of Yuuri's fingers, wanting so badly to feel Yuuri deep in himself. 

"I won't have you ruining my phone calls, you know. Billions of dollars at stake. So many careers and jobs on the line. Sometimes, even entire economies. A little error, a little inopportune sound at the wrong moment could make me look  _ so rude," _ whispers Yuuri, entering a single finger inside of Victor. He pumps it, and his wet mouth runs along the omega's scent gland. He pulls back, his breath tickling the omega’s ear. "It could blow off the entire deal. Ruin industries, destroy reputations." 

Victor messily trying to coax the alpha's climax. Yuuri's too overwhelming, his voice low and perfect. Every touch sears the omega, and worst of all, Yuuri has figured out the best places to touch Victor to elicit the desired reaction. He remembers the exact place of Victor's prostate, intentionally running his finger around the sensitive spot, never stimulating it and holding Victor on the edge of something that feels like forever. 

Yuuri continues, his eyes so capturing the omega in his forceful gaze. "I will let you touch me, Victor. Because I know you're so desperate for me. But you have to be more than quiet." He shoves another finger into Victor, his other slicked hand wrapping around the omega's cocklet too easily and sliding up and down, torturing the omega at two points. "You can't move at all. We can't risk making a sound." 

Yuuri nips Victor's chin and then his cheek, moving closer to teeth at Victor's ear lobes. "Maybe I'll put a gag on you and let you have only my fingers to entertain your hungry hole. You’ll like that, I think. You can try to make any noise you’ll like." His voice turns husky, and his fingers set a more vicious pace, but never allowing Victor to come. "Or maybe I'll put you on my cock, let you warm every inch of me. We wouldn't want it to be cold. You'll be so good at it, won't you, Victor?" 

"Please, please," Victor begs. 

Yuuri inserts another finger, slowly thrusting away. He adds, "You'll have to be so still. Sometimes, Victor, the phone calls will last for four hours. Can you be that good?" 

"I can! I will!" he moans, his fingers unable to rub Yuuri’s cock anymore as the fantasy drawn by Yuuri’s words colorize in his mind. The picture of four hours, four entire hours, seems impossible. But those fours hours, simply sitting on Yuuri’s cock and hanging on there and trying desperately not to trigger Yuuri’s knot, seems like pure pleasurable torture he has never thought of in even his wildest dreams. 

“It’ll be like your selection of dildos, you know,” murmurs Yuuri, his intense eyes glinting with pleasure. “You’ll be on me for so long you will be able to tell the difference apart if I had a model made after me.” 

Victor’s eyes dilate. 

Victor has been on suppressants for so long, but he thinks he might be triggered into a heat anyway from how  _ overwhelming _ Yuuri is. 

Then Yuuri suddenly pulls away, taking away his hands and fingers and the heat of his body. He casually sucks the clear wet slick off his hands, heading to the nearest bathroom. He whistles cheerfully. 

“Yuuri?” calls out Victor, suddenly confused. 

“Don’t come, Victor,” he says, washing his hands with soap. Then he dries them on a nearby hand towel. He darkly adds, “We’re not done yet.” He reaches for the hotel telephone and hits a number. “Hello, is this room service? Oh, yes, I would like to order something. A bottle of champagne, the best you have. Two glasses. I would like ice as well. Clean ice, please.” A pause. “I’m putting these in the champagne. I don’t appreciate the taste of iced tap water mixed with champagne.” He listens for a moment. “Yeah, the room is 1810. No, don’t charge it to the room. I’ll pay with cash. Thank you.” The alpha places the phone back on the dial pad. 

“Yuuri?” repeats Victor, still confused. 

Quickly putting back his dress shirt and pants, Yuuri smiles impishly at the omega. “We’re in such a great mood. I thought we should get some champagne to celebrate your successful concerts in New York.”

To Victor, it sounds like a complete bullshit answer he would have given to that corporate dumbass he was talking to earlier on the phone. Victor narrows his eyes at the alpha. 

Yuuri only smiles even wider. 

A knock at the door draws their attention. 

Yuuri is still smiling. “Don’t come, Victor.” A subtle warning flashes in his eyes. The alpha heads to the front door, straightening his hair as he turns the corner. Victor could still hear Yuuri talking to attendant with ease, as if he wasn’t just given a bad handjob and teased a desperate omega to near orgasm and then left said omega in bed, still wanting and aching and empty. After what seems to be ten minutes but probably only two, the attendant finally leaves with a sizable tip. 

Yuuri comes back with two glasses of champagne. No ice is thankfully visible in it. Victor had to bite his tongue with horror in his stomach when he heard Yuuri suggested drinking champagne on ice to room service. It’s like he picked an uncultured heathen to do. . . whatever their relationship is. 

“Two glasses of champagne,” says Yuuri, placing it on the nightstand. He goes and then returns with a chilled champagne bottle and a sizable round glass of ice cubes. He sets those by the untouched glasses. Moving to sit on the bed with wrinkled slacks and shirt, Yuuri tells the omega, “You should know. . . I don’t actually drink champagne with ice in it.”

Victor lets out a sigh of relief. 

“I’ll tell you something, Victor.” Yuuri’s voice drops low, seductive in its mesmerizing syllables. He throws the sheets off of the omega’s body, drinking in every inch of Victor’s bare form. “When you interrupted me—”

Yuuri’s phone rings. 

He groans, the lustful pheromones in the air turning murderous. He grumbles and grabs his phone from between the pillows. “Katsuki. What do you want now?” There’s more squabbling from the speaker. Yuuri cuts in whatever they’re saying. “I don’t care if you’re doomed or facing the three judges in the Underworld. I’m in a meeting with someone far more important than you.” Then he ends call and powers down his phone. In an aside, he off-topically announces, “If I own any stocks in that supposed Fortune 500 company, I would sell all of it and dare risk getting investigated by the SEC for insider trading.” 

Victor has watched enough white collar shows on Netflix to recognize some of the words. “I don’t want you to go to jail.”

The alpha softens. “Now,” he says, more composed now. “Even though I absolutely hated talking to that guy, it was very wrong of you to touch my cock like that while I was on a phone call. Because it was your first time and that I’ve never told you about how important my phone calls are, I think I’ll go fairly easy on you.”

“For what?” Victor chokes out, his mouth so dry. 

“Your punishment,” simply answers the alpha. “Now spread your legs, bend your knees, and show me all of yourself.”

Victor does, lying back and then exposing himself for the alpha. All so the alpha could see the dripping nature of his cunt and its hungry clenching, desperate for something to fill its emptiness. He shivers when Yuuri’s finger runs around the edges, never going in. His eyes dilate when Yuuri licks up the slick accumulated on his finger, his dark eyes ravenous for more. 

Yuuri withdraws from the bedside and picks up an ice cube. He tosses it into his mouth, appearing thoughtful. He leans over, pressing his lips against the side of Victor’s scent gland on his neck. 

Victor startles, jerked away and shocked from the alpha’s ice cold kiss. Yuuri pulls back, sucking away at the ice cube with a smirk. He audibly rolls the ice cube around his teeth. 

“Don’t move” is Victor’s next warning. 

Then Yuuri reaches for another a few more ice cubes and touches one to Victor’s hard nipple. His cold mouth easily captures the other, nibbling and teasing it away. Victor forcibly tightens his grip on the sheets, frenziedly trying his very best not to give as good as he’s getting. Victor’s hip buckle, his cunt itching for something, no,  _ someone.  _

Yuuri slinks away when the ice melts, all the grace of a self-satisfied feline. He pops another into his mouth. Climbing onto the bed, right before Victor's parted legs and bended knees, Yuuri lies down on his stomach and presses a slow kiss right over Victor's hole. 

Victor moans, biting back lips. It's so cold down there, heightening the sensitive of all the nerves between his legs. Yuuri grips his ankles in silent warning. He's unintentionally moving, disobeying his alpha. 

Yuuri kisses it again. He opens his mouth and slowly pushes in the melting ice cube with his tongue. Drawing back to admire the view, he ignores the omega's whimpers and smugly says, "If you could only see how angrily red your hole is, Victor. How do you feel?" 

"So close," the omega gasps, trying not to squirm. He thinks there may be tears forming at the corners of his eyes. 

"Hmm," hums the alpha. "Don't come. But tell me when the ice disappears." Then Yuuri unzips his pants to reveal his blood-engorged cock and takes ahold of himself. A little precum drips from its slit. Yuuri doesn't even tease himself as he works himself, leering eyes wandering over Victor's body. He slows down, rubbing once and then twice. Hot seed lands all over Victor's legs, cunt, cocklet, stomach, and even his foot. 

After some time, Victor gasps, "The ice melted." 

Instead of doing anything remotely helpful, Yuuri kicks off his pants and puts another ice cube into his mouth. "A few more, Victor." He climbs back onto the bed, shoving the melting ice cube inside of Victor and then sitting back on his haunches to casually watch his seed dry on Victor. He doesn't miss a single flush or squirm from the omega under his devoted gaze for the next half hour. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and ladies, please don't actually shove ice cubes into your vagina. It's very bad for your vagina. If you really, really want to (or your SO does), make sure it's really melted.


	6. Overstimulation ft. Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Chastity</strike> | <strike>Pet Play</strike> | Overstimulation | <strike>Cross-dressing</strike>

Yuuri supervises Victor in the bath, eyes glinting as he watches every hand. He clicks his tongue in warning when the omega's hands get too close to his cocklet or cunt. Even drying off is torture to Victor. Yuuri has the omega stand with legs apart and arms by his side. Like a display doll. He leisurely presses the towel to the omega's legs and then other parts of the body, humming and kneeling as he works the towel in between Victor's toes. He rises slightly, the towel wrapped around the cocklet. He briskly dries it and gently presses in between the omega's legs. His lips pull into a smile when Victor doesn't squirm into the towel. 

He leaves Victor sitting on the bed while he ruffles through the omega's trunks. He gently sets aside dozens and dozens of outlandish outfits, each more bizarre and fancy than the last. He opens the second suitcase when he sighs at the sight of even more crazy clothes. "Victor, you have a simple dress or shirt or pants or something that isn't too complicated to tear off?" 

Victor's mouth dries at the thought of Yuuri tearing apart his clothes. "No," he chokes out. "I only have thongs." 

Nodding, Yuuri lets the lid fall close. "Alright, I will be back in an hour. No touching yourself. Or else you won't like what's coming next," Yuuri warns, voice low and filled with dark promises. 

Victor quickly nods, so eager. When Yuuri leaves the spacious hotel room, Victor is almost tempted to disobey. He wants to explore the depths of Yuuri’s depravity, of the alpha’s boundless hunger, of the alpha’s control. He rolls down on the bed and reaches for his phone on the nightstand. It has been turned off to prevent any unattractive intrusions. He ignores the endless missed call notification from Yakov, the latest from two weeks ago. He’ll eventually listen to the hundreds-plus voicemails. Until then, he’ll keep buying more space for his voicemails from his phone carrier. 

He listens to Yuri’s music sample from a song called “Madness Neverending.” He texts back a few criticism, certain that Yuri probably won’t take into consideration. Yuri, not surprising, texts back, completely insulted by Victor’s words. The constant text exchange takes up the next twenty minutes of Victor’s life. The topic, which was about Yuri’s newest song, completely devolves into essay-long criticisms about Victor’s latest work with complaints about how sweet everything sounds. 

_ You’re totally bought out. Like all those other dried up artists on Hollywood streets, _ it says in one of Yuri’s texts. _ There’s nothing memorable about any songs you wrote. Except maybe “A New Piano.” But that’s only cause the beat is decent. _

Decent? High praise indeed from this moody teenager. 

* * *

Plisetsky - Angry Kitten

What the flying fuck is the purpose of “Restroom Meeting”? What is this gross shit? Don’t you know how perverted you sound? And DID YOU KNOW there are SO MANY FUCKING BACTERIA AND DISEASES IN THE RESTROOM? GROSS. 

I HOPE YOU GET ONE

I DONT EVER WANNA SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN

What the fuck does “Melted Chocolate” mean?”

So one night, I had a box of dutch chocolate and a lover with me.

Wait. 

Dont tell me.

I met someone on the internet. 

Remember safe sex.

You a fucking hypocrite. 

*You’re

As if you are ever seen buying condoms by the paps

Your stalker neighbor once opened all of your mail for four months

And reported that everything you bought was from amazon 

fucking 50 violin strings and 86 dog toys

That was only for two months

Also i realized that i wasn’t buying the right type of violin string

The originals were catgut strings

First of all i am offended 

Catgut??????

Second, wtf

You played violin since you were four 

On and off

I hate you 

Catgut

Chris said you were seeing someone new

Is there a question?

No

So are you dating? 

We're not dating 

Ffs are you courting? 

No

We're not like that 

GROSS

Then why do you write 15 song drafts about him? 

I didnt write 15 drafts

Right 

1 Restroom meeting, 2 melted chocolate, 3 always thinking of you, 4 what a great ass, 5 cowboy song, 6 love machine, 7 the air I breathe, 8 love those brown eyes, 9 sound of his heart, 10 chains and collars, 11 do what you want, 12 reflections, 13 always watching, 14 I am Agape

15 

I'm 89 percent sure a new piano is about him too 

You realize I have to edit them all????????? 

For every time you had sex with him, i most definitely witnessed it!!!!!!!!! 

You're both gross!

Then dont look too closely 

Fuck you Victor 

* * *

Yuuri comes back exactly fifty-two minutes later. He's a little sweaty and carrying a blank, unimposing bag of unknown items. He places them on the nightstand and turns to Victor, his lips curling with delight at the sight of the omega. His soft lashes blink in surprise when he scents the air and realizes that yes, Victor completely obeyed the alpha’s order. He purrs at the omega, pleased enough that the sounds send pleasant shivers over Victor’s skin. Reaching into the bag, the alpha offers a white dress shirt and black slacks with matching black oxfords. “Put these on.”

Victor raises a curious brow.

“We’ll be going out. Unless you don’t want to.”

Victor bites his lips. “I do want to,” he pauses, concerned, “but what about the paparazzi? There’s lines of them waiting outside of this hotel. Waiting to sell any pictures of me. They’ll follow me anywhere.” 

“Do you trust me?” Yuuri asks, still holding onto the clothes. 

Victor nods. 

* * *

It turns out that a hat-wearing, normal-looking Victor is to be smuggled out by a Four Seasons limo driver sworn to silence by a handful of hundred dollar bills with a promise of more at the end of the trip. Once they are in the back of the hotel with its multiple loading zones and docking areas, the employee directs him to sit in the back of the limo while he moves around to sit in the driver’s seat. The car starts, and Victor stares out of the tinted windows as it makes a circle around the hotel until it’s pulled up at the front. Paparazzi begin flashing their lights at the limo, and Victor feels his palms begin to sweat. 

A well-dressed tailored man with gelled hair and an easy smile saunders right in between the paparazzi and the limo. Almost so seamlessly yet who would dare walk between the vultures and their prey? He pauses, tilting his head. His tanned hand taps at his chin, and he voices aloud, “Where you all looking for me?”

The whispers from the paparazzi buzz. “It’s Phichit Chulanont!” shouts one sharp photographer, instantly snapping a few pictures. “Phichit! Are you still representing Calvin Klein as their face in Asia or have you decided to open your own fashion house?” 

“Phichit, over here!” 

“Mr. Chulanont!” 

The supermodel waves at the camera flashes, a laugh drawing from his lips. “I’m still working with Calvin Klein. I’ve only dabbled a little with my Phi designer line, but I still have very little experience. Too little to take that step of opening an entire fashion house. But I’m eager to learn.” 

A female paperazzi with a notepad yells, “Mr. Chulanont, can you tell us about your relationship to Mr. Seung-gil Lee, the omega South Korean supermodel?”

Yuuri Katsuki walks out of the hotel’s door and strolls around the crowd of salivating paparazzi waiting for news and stories from the Thai supermodel. At the indirect flashes of camera light, Yuuri blinks and adjusts his glasses, but he makes no motion to cover his face. Some paparazzi look curiously at him, but they make no motion to heckle the businessman. He makes it safely in front of the limo, pulls the door open for himself, and slips in. 

To the driver, he says, “Okay, let’s go.” 

As the limo pulls away from the hotel, Victor glances back to see Phichit Chulanont, the thirty-four-year-old supermodel from Thailand, still answering the paparazzi's questions with ease under the limelight. 

* * *

They drive for a while, circling around a few blocks. Possibly losing whatever shadows they may have. The limo driver is especially creative, turning the right signal light on and then proceeding to speed to the far left lane and turning left. He drives ridiculously slow on 35 mph streets and exceedingly fast on 15 mph-only roads. 

“Sir, I’ll be heading to the location now.”

“Thank you, Jorge,” replies Yuuri. 

“It was lucky that Phichit Chulanont was there. They would have hounded this car, just because they thought someone important was in here,” Victor says, looking through the rear window for any signs of camera lens sticking out of car windows. 

“Luck had nothing to do with it.” Yuuri reveals, “I asked Phichit to come and help.” 

"You know him?" 

"We were college roommates." 

“I met him once,” the omega admits. “At the afterparty for Paris Fashion Week. He’s very nice and popular.” 

“That’s Phichit.” 

The limo pulls aside. Victor, who has never stepped foot incognito in this side of town, finally gets his first look at New York's most posh sex shop. Maybe even the world. He knows of this because Chris _ swears _ by their expensive edible lube. It's demure and classy. No one walking by would immediately think it's a sex shop from its appearance to its name: Sara's. 

Yuuri, not deterred by its closed sign, knocks on the door. It opens on the second knock, a famous woman in certain communities poking her head out and smiling broadly at them. 

"Hello, Sara. It's been a while," greets Yuuri. 

She opens the door wider. "Please come in! Hurry! I would hate for customers to think we are still open." 

Once she locks the door behind them, she turns and blows air kisses right by both of the alpha's cheeks. "I have us closed all day. You know what you two are looking for or should I give you a tour?" 

"No idea, but once I see something, I'll know." 

She adjusts her wrapped dress and hands Yuuri a set of keys. "Alright. I'll head home. Yuuri, when you're done remember to close up. If you play anywhere in the shop, you're coming back yourself to clean up or paying my cleaning bill." 

Victor chokes. "You're not afraid of one of us making off with some things?" He nervously tugs at his shirt, tilting his head towards the display of delicate thongs labeled as forty-seven dollars each. 

"I have Yuuri's credit card number on file. I'll be sure to charge something like VIP tickets to see the Baltimore Orchestra," laughs Sara. "Yuuri, we must eat and catch up sometimes. While we are both in the same city." 

Yuuri smiles. "Maybe at JFK? I'll be leaving in two days for Seoul." 

"Text me time and date and location." Sara grabs her coat and waves goodbye, walking to the back of the store. "Ciao, Yuuri. Ciao, belle!" 

Once Yuuri is certain Sara is gone, the alpha strolls around the store. The omega follows him, a few steps behind. He passes by a wide selection of toys. Paddles, whips, edible thongs and bralette, lube, lotion, and other things Victor doesn't even recognize. There's a displayed Crispino Love Machine 2019 on a platform with mannequins dressed in designer corsets. He has his eyes locked on a particular dildo-molding kit when he finds himself walking straight into Yuuri. 

The alpha smirks once he follows Victor's gaze. "Yes, I believe we'll be getting that." 

Victor blushes, even his own ears feeling hot. 

Yuuri casually picks up one box and then gestures to a rack of paddles in various colors and surface area. "Do you like pain?" 

The omega shakes his head, unbiddenly stepping back. The pheromones around him turn sour. “No,” he answers after a long moment. He hangs his head. 

Yuuri steps forward and kisses the corner of lips. Electricity sparks from where their skin meet, and Victor is surprised. The very kiss is a reward for the truth, and instead of tearing Victor down, Yuuri simply doesn’t push that boundary. Doesn’t dare suggest that maybe they’ll try pain and see if Victor responds well to go. He pulls back, his eyes closed. Then he opens them, warmth evident in his very soul. “Okay, then we won’t try." He pauses, "Do you know what a safe word is? You say it, and we will stop whatever we are doing." 

"Eros," answers Victor. "Eros is my safe word." 

Yuuri nods, accepting the word. "I do want to do something. I hope you don’t mind if you follow me.” 

The alpha beckons him, pivoting around shelves of endless corsets and bondage gear. He stops in his step when he reaches the wall at the back of the store, next to the employee’s lounge. There’s a familiar black X-shaped equipment firmly attached to the wall. There’s no price tag listed, and wrist and ankle restraints are loose, ready for their next victim. 

Victor suddenly has the suspicion of who will be the next victim. 

“It won’t hurt,” promises Yuuri, gesturing to the St. Andrew’s Cross. The scent of arousal seeps from him, heavy and oh, so wonderful. He smiles when the omega moves to stand in front of it and kneels to remove first the pants. The pants are tossed to the nearby bench. His smile turns into a smirk when he sees the lack of underwear on Victor. He rises to slowly unbutton the omega’s shirt, gently caressing the omega’s nipples for a few times before stepping back. “Hands up, legs spread.” 

Once naked, Victor shivers when Yuuri expertly fastens him to the cross. The flat, slanted equipment is cool to the touch, quickly warming up. He watches the alpha move from limb to limb, cuff to cuff. It’s painfully clear this is not the first time Yuuri has played with this, sending a brief violent feeling of green jealousy through the omega’s stomach. He is almost tempted to hit something, even though he had no rights to Yuuri during that time. 

Lust lights up Yuuri’s eyes. “You look so wonderful on display,” he purrs. “Did you know how the meaning behind the name of St. Andrew’s Cross?”

Victor shakes his head. 

“In the New Testament, St. Andrew was an apostle of Jesus. He was his disciple. Unlike Judas who hung himself after betraying Jesus, St. Andrew was said to be crucified on a cross. He died on that cross.” Yuuri pauses, a dark look storming over his face. “Many who have been restrained on St. Andrew’s Cross figuratively die as well. _ La petite mort.” _The French words spills out of his lips, smooth and predatory. 

It takes a few seconds for Victor to translate. He thinks slick is already dripping down from his cunt, eagerly awaiting Yuuri’s fiery touch. 

Yuuri shrugs himself out of his suit jacket, placing it on the pile of Victor’s clothes. He steps around the bench and opens the first aid kit, pulling out adhesive tape from the box. He takes something out from his pocket. The omega doesn’t see it too well but knows it’s something shiny. He kneels to the floor, his head so close to Victor’s raised cocklet. Concentrated, he completely ignores it in favor of shoving something hard and smooth into Victor’s cunt. 

An egg vibrator. 

It’s sizable for an egg, but at this angle, Victor knows it’ll easily slip out. Especially with how slicked he is. 

He reaches for the white adhesive tape and rips for two strips. Almost mockingly, Yuuri uses the tape to make a little cross right over the entrance to Victor’s cunt. He presses a kiss right on Victor’s exposed inner thigh, warming the omega’s skin. 

Adhesive tape is a wonder, but Victor isn’t sure if it’ll keep the egg in. 

Yuuri stands up, examining the omega from head to toe. Once satisfied with what he sees, he says, “I hope you can keep it inside of you, Victor. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me. You’ve impressed me so well today. So good for me.” His finger reaches up and gently rubs the omega’s nipples. 

The omega gasps. 

“Practice your muscles,” whispers Yuuri, retrieving a remote control from his pocket. His smirk widens. “I have some shopping to do. Feel free to come as many times as you like.” 

Then he turns the vibrator on high, sending the omega quickly spiraling into the first orgasm of the day. The remote is placed onto the bench, and Yuuri, so cruel and so devious, turns away from the omega. Doesn't bother to stay and watch. 

The denial of orgasm earlier makes the first one so intense. His eyes roll. Victor thinks he could see the God St. Andrew believed in. Or perhaps he has died with the greatest pleasure. The egg sits right next to his prostate, loudly buzzing away and sending vibrations straight into Victor's underused nerve. He clenches around the egg, feeling it slip down. Then the vibrations make an odd turn, becoming raw for the omega. 

Tears form at the corner of his eyes. After being denied so long, getting what he wants over and over seems like a wish he should have been more careful in making. 

"Yuuri," he whispers desperately. "Yuuri, alpha." 

He comes two more times, the muscles in his body tiring. He hears approaching footsteps and opens his eyes. Relief spreads at the sight of Yuuri. 

But the alpha does not reach for the remote. He admires the flush of the omega's body, casually raising a piece of soft pink fabric right next to the omega's face. "I think this will look wonderful on you, Victor." 

"Please turn it off," begs Victor, his breaths coming out in pants. 

Yuuri makes a show of thinking. He whispers, "Can you give me one more? Come one more time for me, Victor." 

Victor nods. 

He kisses over Victor's heart. "I'll be quick," he promises. "Have to ring this up." He waves the scrap of fabric. 

He does come one more time, hard and screaming so loud he's sure anyone could hear him. Yuuri is right by his side in an instant, turning off the egg and then releasing the omega from the cross. He carries the omega over to the black bench.

It takes over twenty minutes of lying on the bench and two bottles of water for Victor to feel a little like himself again. He sips water as he watches Yuuri pull cleaning supplies to disinfect the cross and the surrounding play area. When he tries to sit up to walk, he groans. An ache between his legs throbs. 

He's not going to walk properly for _ days. _

Victor loves it.


	7. Inflation ft. Sex Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Blood/Gore</strike> | <strike>Gun Play</strike> | Inflation | <strike>Emeto</strike>

Though Yuuri is able to stay in New York for two more days, Victor has to leave for Boston to prep for his concert. He wishes he could stay in New York, but it's not as if he could ditch a sold-out concert and disappoint thousands of fans. So he packs his bags, winks at the paparazzi while hobbling and pretending he does not have a walking issue, and takes a flight to Massachusetts.

Yuuri, on the other hand, is staying in Seoul for two weeks to deal with something involving Samsung. Victor doesn't know the full details, and Yuuri has kept it vague enough that Victor doesn't find a hint of his work in the business section of the newspapers. 

After the two-day show in Boston, Victor gets to head back home in Beverly Hills for a week. He plants himself face-first on the bed and sleeps nonstop for the next thirteen hours. He wakes up the next morning at 4 am, bleary eyed and glaring at his old piano. He's been composing random sections of songs he hasn't thought hard about. He's been mostly playing on behalf of his feelings, thinking about Yuuri and then wondering what autotune would go beautifully with his thoughts. The only problem is that when he play and composes this early, he never remembers what genius or idiotic thing he has created. 

He stands up and rubs his eyes. Pulling headphones over his ears, he moves to the corner of the inspiration room where a desktop computer has been set up. It's wirelessly connected to each key of the piano, so whatever note or key Victor plays could be played back in the correct tune and volume regardless of the eight broken keys. 

He plays back the more recent creations. One audio file is relabeled as "absolutely genius" while another is labeled as "absolute shit - do not show yuri." He makes through the unprocessed audio clips until he reaches the last clip. 

The piano flows, rising and falling. Love, it sings. A song that doesn't end and will always be in hearts, remembered constantly. It reminds the omega of the sea, and he's taken back to the last time he has gone to the beach to watch the ocean's power. Over five years ago. Before he became Agape. 

Victor is struck. This is Yuuri's song, completely unfinished. Or rather, it's not unfinished. But rather, incomplete. After all, love doesn't stand alone. The waves of the ocean is never the only thing heard on the beach. There's the call of the seagulls, singing along to the ocean's song. 

He reaches for his violin and plugs it to his computer. He secures the earplugs and listens, holding the violin as the sound of the piano washes over him. He listens again. And again. 

Then he plays it one more time, hitting record on the computer program for the violin. Yuuri's song plays in the headphones, inviting Victor to join in. 

Raising the bow to the violin, he plays along with the alpha.

* * *

When Yuuri texts the omega that he is forced to stay another week in Seoul because of unexpected complications, Victor nearly tosses the phone in pure frustration. Victor is equally busy, moving from one place to another for his world tour. Ontario, then London, then Oxford. He performs five days in a row to over twenty thousand people in Paris. 

Yuuri texts him thousands of pictures and videos of Melbourne, calling later to apologize for the numerous business trips he has to attend. He won't be leaving Australia for a week. 

Then Victor’s in Hamburg at the end of February, performing live in Germany on Day 5 while people wave their lit phone screens at him as he croons the sarcastic love song called "Pink and Blue" from his third album. He gets a text at the end of the show from Yuuri. 

Yuuri Katsuki 

How long will you be staying in Germany?

Not long.

I have a show in Madrid. In 4 days.

Rehearsal is in 3.

Stay with me for a day.

I have a house in Frankfurt. 

You can let yourself in. 

I'll have a courier deliver the keys to you. 

* * *

It's a stately, luxurious, two-story house that sits almost right out of Frankfurt. It's far away enough from the streets with large green trees blocking traffic noise. From twenty minutes of googling the address, Victor determines that it's a four bedrooms, four bath house with an ample backyard and basement with a sauna and temperature-controlled wine cellar. He could easily imagine Makkachin here with her tongue rolling as she digs holes to bury random things. 

Modern design triumphs in its minimalist stairs, the high ceilings, and the expansive but simple kitchen. Victor noses in every single room, finding three of them to be a guest room. There's not a speck of dust anywhere. Yuuri probably hired a cleaning crew or maybe a house sitter to keep the home maintained. He sets his suitcases down in the master bedroom, where Yuuri's old scent lingers the strongest. 

He opens Yuuri's closet, finding an assortment of clothes and shoes. Most of them are tailored suits. Other than that, there's no personal effects. Or any interesting toys or even a bottle of lube. No bills laying around, no photographs of his family, nothing. He jumps onto the queen sized bed, his eyelids growing heavy.

* * *

He's finishing up some scrambled egg and sausage for breakfast when he hears the front door open and then close. Yuuri's voice, so familiar that Victor hears it in his dreams sometimes, call out in greeting. Victor quickly follows Yuuri's voice, throwing his arms around the alpha and ruining his pristine suit with wrinkles. 

"Hello, Yuuri," he purrs, delighted. 

"I got something for you." Yuuri gestures to the front door. "It's in the car. Go to the kitchen and wait." 

Victor does, immediately thinking about all the things Yuuri might have gotten for him. Cookies? Food? Something for Makkachin? Or maybe it's something for the omega. He squirms in thought as he fantasizes Yuuri tormenting the omega with a toy of some sorts. Or maybe he'll tie him up and have his wicked, evil way with Victor. He sits patiently on the barstool, watching the door for the alpha. 

The alpha sweeps in, carrying three long boxes. Anticipation arise in the omega, the boxes all set before him on the kitchen counter. The alpha opens the top box, this one for clothes. He gestures to the omega. 

Victor pulls away the white tissue paper to reveal a wide selection of thongs. It's the exact same brand he always wears, and Victor's eyes widen in surprise. He wonders if Yuuri plans to fuck him while the omega wears these, the fabric yanked aside so Yuuri could quickly enter and thrust. He hopes so. 

"To replace the one I broke," explains the alpha, running a hand through his hair. "I know you said I could break them, but I feel so terrible about ruining it. I know how much you love wearing thongs, but I don't know which design you liked, so I bought the entire Spring collection." 

Victor is staring at over three thousand dollars in merchandise. He's awed that the alpha found the exact brand. All of the partners he had before never gave any consideration to his clothes, always ripping away the delicate fabrics. He guesses it's an indicator to the future where they tear apart their relationship. 

The alpha smiles warmly and puts the lid back on. He opens the next box for the omega and tells him, "The tissue paper, please." 

Victor parts the tissue paper to reveal a scrap of colorful, soft fabric. 

"A scarf for Makkachin," Yuuri says. "I've been informed by Phichit, who is far better at fashion than me, that Makkachin will look great with a light yellow, floral pattern scarf. It's handmade by omega women in India, made up of cashmere and silk. Half of the profit goes to the artisans while the other half goes to educate girls. They're paid fairly, and this company is fair trade certified." 

Victor thinks he might cry from Yuuri's devotion. 

Letting his hair fall forward, he reaches for the third box, but Yuuri suddenly grabs his wrist. 

The alpha encompasses the omega's form, his mouth mere inches from Victor's ear. He whispers, "Naughty Victor. The third box is for later. No peeking." He takes ahold of the omega's legs and then grunts when he princess carries his weight. "Let's go upstairs."

He deposits the omega on the bed in the master bedroom. He strips off his suit jacket, hanging it on the coat rack in the walk-in closet. Casually, he says, “I unfortunately have a late lunch meeting today with a Mr. Thomas today. A two o’clock meeting. He came up to Frankfurt from Munich, and he is usually very, very busy. My assistant was lucky to be able to set up a meeting three months in advance.” He emerges from the closet and slips off his tie, leaving it on the nightstand. 

Victor has no idea who the hell that guy is. But the omega could sense that there’s another shoe hanging and Yuuri hasn’t dropped it yet. 

Yuuri kicks off his pants and then unbutton his shirt. Wearing only black boxers, he climbs onto the bed and smirks down at the omega. "It’ll take me an hour to drive to the reservation. Which means that I have three hours to do whatever I want to you in my bed," he purrs. 

"Please do," Victor croaks out. 

Yuuri's fingers slowly tug off Victor's t-shirt and then his dark blue booty shorts. His hand presses in between Victor’s legs, playing with the moist fabric of his thong. Through the cloth, he circles around Victor’s entrance. With a quirk of his lips, he hooks his fingers on the thong’s strap and pulls it down the omega’s legs. It gets discarded somewhere on the floor, completely out of sight but unbroken. 

“So wet,” murmurs the alpha. “You’ll let me do anything, won’t you?”

Victor nods, perhaps unwisely. But Yuuri is just impossible to resist. If Victor could, he will lay the world at the alpha’s feet. But until then, he’ll settle for writing albums and songs about the alpha. Songs about the little parts of him to songs about his character and the strength he holds in not just his body but his soul. 

“Would you like to see what I plan to do?” His voice is deep and husky, curling into Victor’s stomach and sparking up desire deep inside of Victor’s bones. 

Victor nods again. 

He presses a quick kiss at the omega’s bare hip and then hops off the bed. Reaching into an inconspicuous drawer under the mattress, he pulls out an electric heating blanket, which Victor blinks curiously at but does not ask about. He dashes downstairs and comes back with a paper bag of water, energy drinks, and protein shakes. Finally, he walks around the bed and plucks something small and black out of his suit jacket's inner pocket. It gets waved in front of the omega's face. 

"Recognize it?" 

Victor certainly does. Following Chris on his private Instagram account is enough to shatter much of his innocence. It's a black butt plug with a flared bottom and a wide base. It's somewhat on the small side, though Victor will most definitely feel it when he has Yuuri's cock in him. 

"Ever played with your ass?" Yuuri asks, setting the toy on the bed. 

The omega nods. 

Yuuri smiles wide. He then shows his other hand, a different toy of dark blue silicone. It's longer than the butt plug with a wide base that's similar to an alpha's knot. Just without the cock. A flared bottom prevents it from accidentally getting stuck inside the body. 

Victor shivers. This one is designed to be shoved into his cunt, locking in him all the seed his alpha could give. 

"We have. . ." Yuuri glances over to the clock by the bed. "Two hours and forty-eight minutes." A devious look crawls over his eyes. He licks his lips, hungry as a wolf in the presence of a little lamb. "Let's get started." 

He gathers the slick from the omega's cunt to wet the butt plug. Slowly working the plug into Victor's waiting ass, the alpha’s glasses glint predatory. Yuuri breathes, “You look so beautiful, Victor. I can’t wait to feel you around me. I want you to feel every inch of my desire for you.” 

Victor whimpers, pushing himself onto the plug. It’s strange, though it’s not the first time he had something up his ass. It wasn’t too interesting back then, just something different to feel. But with Yuuri, he’s purely overwhelmed by the heat licking up his spine as he arches into Yuuri’s touch. The plug bottoms out, and Victor squirms, the plug’s uneven and thick shape teasing sharp nerves he didn’t even know that existed. 

By the time Yuuri has stripped out of his boxers and then shoved himself deep inside Victor’s cunt to mould a new home, the omega is already on another cloud, closing in on the ninth. Victor has never felt this way, feeling himself wrapped so tight around the alpha’s cock. The plug makes every withdraw and thrust of Yuuri's cock even more obvious, heightening the omega's pleasure. 

The alpha quickly blows his load deep into the omega's cervix, the hot seed spilling quickly. No knot forms, and Victor whimpers, finally realizing he'll figuratively have a front row seat to the full power and virility of an alpha in his prime. He won’t stop, he won’t stop until Yuuri has finally given everything he could to the omega. 

Victor moans. He can’t wait to feel everything. 

With a tight grip on the omega’s hip, Yuuri ruts into Victor like a man possessed. But he’s in perfect control of himself, never angling himself so the omega could easily give into an orgasm, never touching the omega’s sensitive nerves in order to draw Victor’s torment out longer. The mess of slick and come squelches between them, so lewd in their quiet symphony of moans and soft whispers. The omega's hard cocklet slaps against his own stomach. The alpha comes a second time, spurting another stream of seed into Victor. He gasps and then rolls the omega around, reaching for a water bottle. Cock still hard inside of Victor’s cunt, he drinks a couple of gulps, offers the bottle to the omega, and holds it for Victor to sip. 

“I’m good,” whispers the omega, squirming with every twitch of Yuuri's cock. "Alpha," he begs, so sweetly, "let me come." 

Yuuri pulls off his glasses, setting it on the nightstand with the water bottles. Grinding a little to give Victor some friction, he whispers, "Tell me when to stop if it gets too much. Say eros, okay?" 

Victor nods. 

Victor should have known better. 

Yuuri is _ relentless. _

The alpha is furiously pounding into the omega as the omega rides him. Victor's leg muscles begin to really ache the fourth time Yuuri comes, a huge load this time that stuffs the omega so well and sends him spiraling into his second orgasm. 

Yet, Victor doesn't cry out his safe word. There's a part inside of him that believes so faithfully that he could take whatever Yuuri gives him, no matter how much or how little. Pride demands he does not quit, and it's the same pride that forces him to squeeze Yuuri's cock so hard, the knot begins to form at its base. 

He nearly cries in relief. Surely a knot would slow Yuuri down. 

A babble of Japanese spills out of the alpha's mouth, which arouses the omega even more. In English, Yuuri whispers, "You take me so well, Victor. I don't think I can stop." 

Then Yuuri suddenly thrusts his knot deeper into the omega again, drawing loud moans at the intense pressure from the knot and the plug. Seed spurts deep into the omega's cunt, already so full. The omega's eyes roll back, lost in the expanse of pleasure. 

Yuuri shifts them again, allowing Victor to lie on his back instead of carrying the weight of seed in his cunt. Greedy fingers run over Victor's expanding stomach. "So full of my seed, Victor. So good to me. I can imagine you filled with my pups. But you'll still let me inside of you. Because you know this is the place you belong." 

Victor moans. He never thought Yuuri could spill such filthy words and thoughts from his lips. He arches his back and comes once more when the friction from Yuuri's cock slides against his prostate. Every movement becomes overwhelming, unbearably sensitive. 

"Stop, stop!" Victor calls out, moaning as the alpha comes yet again. His channel is so sensitive with every slightest movement, and his stomach has expanded large enough to resemble a five month pregnancy. His muscles spasm around Yuuri's bulging knot, and he lets out soft moans as Yuuri nips around his scent mark. There will be unmistakable red bite marks on his neck tomorrow. 

"One more time," whispers Yuuri. 

Then Yuuri moves.

More tears spill out from the omega's eyes. With the knot formed and a butt plug in his ass, he's so incredibly aware of every drag, of every vein and ridge Yuuri has. He sobs openly, clinging so tight to the alpha as the last of Yuuri's seed fills up his cunt. He lies back, soft moans erupting from his mouth. Yuuri is killing him so slowly, so sweetly, only to make him anew and attuned to the alpha. 

The alpha, once the knot has gone down, gently pulls out of Victor's sated cunt. His fingers are quick to maneuver the plug to lock in every drop of his seed. 

Yuuri takes the heating pad and places it over Victor's stomach. He hums with deep satisfaction, listening to the omega's soft purrs. After pulling the comforters over the omega's legs, the alpha enters the bathroom for a shower and then comes out to pull on an imposing tailored suit. 

Ten minutes before Yuuri has to leave, the alpha adjusts the heating pad on the omega's stomach one last time and then presses a kiss to the omega's forehead. Victor purrs at him, so heady and full of seed. With a jaunty wave and grin at the sleepy, stuffed omega on his bed, he shouts, "I'll be home soon."


	8. Sensory Deprivation ft. Oral Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Prostitution/Sex Work</strike> | Sensory Deprivation | <strike>Gagging</strike> | <strike>Bonds</strike>

Yuuri Katsuki 

If it gets too much, go ahead and unplug.

You should eat lunch. 

There’s some takeout in the fridge. 

Keep hydrated. 

I won't be back until 7pm. 

Maybe. 

The meeting is running a bit longer than I thought. 

Why?

Well, Mr. Thomas thought I should see the specifications in person, so I'm at their engineering department to see samples. 

It's a good thing. It shows they are serious. 

* * *

Victor has no idea what that means. He still has no idea who this person is or why he is so important. At around two o'clock, when the omega is getting unbearably hungry, he slowly climbs out of bed, clinging tightly with his hands around his stomach. His muscles clench tighter around both plugs, and he moans. It's too much to handle. He wonders if being pregnant is anything like this. The omega feels every slosh and movement the seed makes. 

There's no way he could walk downstairs safely without risking Yuuri's expensive rugs and carpets. 

Stepping slowly to not trigger the come too much, Victor inches his way into the bathroom. He finds relief on the toilet and tugs the butt plug out first. It takes some effort and torments the omega when it brushes against the other plug through the thin skin. He sighs when it's finally out. The plug is placed upwards on the counter.

He removes his hand from his expanded stomach. Reaching behind his lax cocklet, he uses both hands to slowly pull the plug. Come instantly floods out of his channel, dripping down into the toilet. Victor leans back, panting in relief.

* * *

Once he puts some of Yuuri's clothes on and ventures into the kitchen, he finds the most lovely assortment of takeout. Though no American or average person would probably call it takeout, for it's too fancy to be. Ceramic bowls covered with pale ceramic lids contain incredible rich noodles with perfectly sliced mushrooms, green onions, and lamb. Another bowl, smaller in shape but not in design, holds a bowl of salad composed of shrimp, lettuce, and other greens. A tiny ceramic cup holds sesame dressing. Victor, who may be a world class pop star and traveled in the very best of hotels, has never seen anything like this sort of extravagance. A glass, yes, glass cup with plastic lid and untouched straw is filled with raspberry smoothie. 

Victor has no idea how these things got into the fridge. He didn't see them earlier in the morning. He suspects that a courier or an assistant may have snuck into the house while the omega was sleeping and brought them in. Yuuri definitely asked them to. 

The omega glances at the clock. Three o'clock. He looks around the expansive kitchen, and his eyes pause on the closed box, innocently sitting on the counter and taunting the omega. Victor wants to take a peek to see what the alpha plans for him next, but one of the last orders Yuuri gave him is to not look. He bites his lips, shakes his head, and wanders in search of his phone. He finds it on the coffee table in the parlour. He plops down on the armchair, deciding to waste some time on social media. 

He posts a few photos of his recent manicure and nails on Instagram, and then tries for some risque pictures of himself. They all seem too sexy and personal to show, especially when dressed in Yuuri's slacks and collared shirt. The red flush on his neck, caused so thoroughly by the alpha, is still visible, and he can still feel the ache deep in his cunt as he stretches. He sends all those photos to Yuuri, who doesn't reply back instantly. 

He's a little disappointed, but Yuuri never replies to the omega's texts right away anyway. 

He opens up the two hundred plus text messages from Yuri, deciding to actually backread them for once. They're all an ongoing boring report of Yuri's entire day, except for some interesting details about Yuri aggressively trying to recruit a hot new DJ from the local club, the very same person Yuri met on the internet. Victor throws in some helpful commentary and is instantly pinged back with exclamation marks and curse words. Why does he even try. 

He wastes some time trying to watch and keep up with a random German TV show, tapping his foot when he realizes it's only almost four o'clock. Waiting for Yuuri is going to take forever. He leaves his phone in the parlour, trying to find something amusing in Yuuri's house. Maybe he'll actually find something to do. 

He's fascinated by the endless shelves of wine bottles in the cellar. There's some twenty years old from French vineyards, a few more recent collections from California's Napa Valley, and close to the entrance, the dirt cheap bottles from ALDI Nord. It surprises Victor. To the omega, Yuuri seems to always purchase the best of everything, no matter how high the price. They're literally displayed on the racks right next to the expensive French wine bottles. 

Victor exits the wine cellar and then stares thoughtfully at the sauna. Ten minutes later, he has merely a white towel on and sits in the hot air with his phone. He's been retweeting cute doggo pictures and then posting a few throwbacks to the days of Makkachin as a newly adopted puppy. Ten thousand people like within twenty minutes. He agrees. She's too pure and adorable for words. 

He notices a retweet from Phichit Chulanont, and without thinking, he finds himself on Phichit's profile page.  _ Phichit follows you,  _ it says. Victor doesn't follow back. 

Well, that must be fixed. In an instant, Victor follows Phichit back. His eyes widen at the number 650k tweets Phichit has made on Twitter, which is an impressive number. Victor barely cracked 10k last week, and this is over five years of being on Twitter. He pauses over the number of people Phichit is following. 2.3k. Impulsively, he clicks to view a list of every name and handle. 

Victor is most definitely crazy. 

The truth is this. He hasn't looked up Yuuri since December, since the days after the Kennedy Center Honors. There isn't anything that leads back to Yuuri anyway, and it's almost as if the alpha doesn't exist in the real world. But he still scrolls through all the people Phichit follows in hopes of finding his alpha. It turns out to be easier than looking for a needle in the haystack. katsuki-y has a cute picture of a miniature poodle and only 40 tweets posted in entire account history. He's followed only by 8 people. 

His description is simply this: SEAGULC. 

The omega squints until he finally figures out that it probably says seagull and that Yuuri probably wrote the description while drinking cheap beer. It's the only sound explanation he could come up with. 

Victor eagerly reads the last tweet Yuuri has ever posted. It's written five years ago, and it tweets: Go to a club party, they say. It'll be fun, they say. 

The omega raises a brow. He can't imagine Yuuri in an exotic club with nude strippers and drunk people hanging off of him. He scrolls down to the next tweet and finds an adorable picture of Yuuri's old doggo. He resists hitting the like button. Mustn't give away the fact that Victor's cyberstalking Yuuri's old Twitter account. He would hate himself for a long time if Yuuri finds out and runs away screaming to the world that Agape is a big-time stalker. Although, he suspects Yuuri wouldn’t actually run away screaming. He’s too far dignified for that. He would slowly walk away and then sit in the soonest available first class seat on the first flight out of town. 

The door to the sauna opens, revealing the alpha in all of his glory. Yuuri tilts his head and smiles at the omega. “I thought I might find you in here. Did you find the hot tub?”

* * *

He has the omega sitting at the formal dining room table, right at one end of the long mahogany table. The matching chair with its cushions is wide and large enough for two, Victor notices. The alpha hums along, switching on the lights as he goes. Stripping off his suit jacket and then his tie, Yuuri says, “I think it was a successful day. Got plenty done. The specs of their samples are up to date and accurate. Siemens has tentatively agreed to provide batteries for Samsung for next year while their engineers will both be working something out in R&D. A few more weeks, and they’ll have the contract be written up and sent to the lawyers.” 

That is the most Yuuri has ever admitted in regards to his job’s details. 

Victor blinks, his words more carefully selected than ever before. “So you are employed by Samsung?” he asks, trying not to make a fool out of himself. 

“Nope,” Yuuri answers, laughing briefly. He undoes the top two buttons of his shirt. “They only wish.” Walking around with only socks on, he moves the tantalizingly mysterious gift box from the kitchen counter to right in front of Victor. Perfect reach for the omega. “I’m glad that you haven’t opened it yet, Victor. Feel free to.” 

The omega does, lifting away the box and then carefully parting away the tissue paper to reveal a very familiar scrap of fabric. Soft pink, and now that Victor could see it much closer than before without a distraction in the form of powerful vibrations of an egg vibrator wrecking his body, the omega recognizes it as silk. It’s one of Sara’s eco-friendly blindfolds. 

“Do you know what it is?”

The omega nods. 

“Good. Put it on.” 

Once Victor secures the blindfold around his eyes, his remaining senses immediately adjust to compensate for the loss of sight. He licks his lips, his mouth so dry and thirsty for something that isn’t water at all. He notices that Yuuri is pacing, never remaining in the same spot. He feels the gentle brush of air circulating from the air conditioner, and he hears its hum. He also listens to the soft machinery sounds of the refrigerator and the near-silent breaths the alpha makes around him. Most important of all is the aroused scent of Yuuri, so strong and overpowering that it’s almost like being  _ embraced _ by the alpha. 

“Sensory deprivation happens when one or more senses is removed. I thought it would be best if we start with one, Victor,” whispers Yuuri, his low voice so loud and commanding in the near-silence of the formal dining room. “So you are given the chance to adjust.” 

Victor licks his lips, nodding at where he thinks the alpha stands. 

Quite innocently, the alpha inquires, “Have you eaten dinner yet?” There’s little chinks of sound coming from where ceramic plates has knocked against each other, some sort of food being set up by the alpha. There's no particularly strong odor wafting from the food. 

The omega leans forward, his mouth parted. He purrs at the alpha, leaning into Yuuri’s side and absolutely loving how the alpha’s other hand is gently combing through his long hair, constantly adjusting his hair to keep it straight. Something cool and smooth slips onto the omega’s tongue. Once Yuuri pulls back his fingers, Victor savors the sushi roll in his mouth. It gives out in a vibrant burst of flavors, perfectly tasting of sesame, rice, seaweed, and something else Victor can’t quite name. He has only ever tasted California rolls back in LA. 

Once Victor swallows everything down with a soft moan, he asks, "What is that?" 

"Eel," the alpha answers. "The sushi comes from the only place I find authentic enough in Germany. Ran by a Japanese-German couple. They're very good at making sushi, aren't they?" 

The omega agrees. It's far superior than anything he had at home. He takes another sushi roll into his mouth, the sharp taste of wasabi instantly waking the omega up. 

"Shrimp with rice and lemon juice dipped in only a smear of wasabi," announces Yuuri. "A familiar and common roll. But delicious in its simplicity."

It goes on and on, Yuuri feeding roll after roll after roll of differing ingredients, never feeding the same thing twice. The alpha helps Victor sip water a few times from a cup in between rolls. He consistently finger-combs the omega's hair. After the fifteenth roll, Victor pulls his head back and shakes his head. "I'm full." 

He feels the alpha's smile. "Excellent." He withdraws from the omega and takes all of the plates and dishes back into the kitchen. The fridge opens a few times. He hums a song in his throat, turning a faucet on and then switching it off. 

Victor desperately strains his ear, trying to figure out what the alpha plans next. 

He comes back to sit right next to the omega, tugging each button of his shirt away. "I love seeing you in my clothes," he says, his voice guttural. "You have no idea how distracted I became at work. They could had asked me to sign everything, you know, Victor." Every word sounds dangerous, the weight of a shoe hanging over the omega's head. 

The omega shivers, holding up his arms so the alpha could pull off the shirt. A simple lift of his bottom and then a tug down his legs is enough to pull off both Victor's pants and his thong. He sits completely naked save the blindfold on the alpha's very much clothed lap. Slick is dripping down to ruin Yuuri's tailored pants. Victor is going to ruin the alpha's pristine clothes. 

Nervously, the omega changes the subject. 

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" 

The alpha leans close, so close, to the omega. His pheromones overwhelm the omega, the slick preparing him so well for the alpha. He feels the sharpness of the alpha's smile against his cheek. "I'm so glad you asked, Victor." 

Then he pushes Victor down on the table until only the omega's legs dangle over the edge. Yuuri adjusts them, raising Victor's legs up on the table and then bending his knees so his feet lays flat on the polished surface. He parts the omega's legs, his hot mouth suddenly enclosing the entirety of the omega's cocklet. 

Victor gasps in surprise. 

Yuuri sucks him hard, his hands gripping tight on Victor's thighs. He rolls his tongue around his length, and Victor, so blind with need, arches his back, pushing forward into Yuuri's face. He needs so much more as he fervently chases his own release. Blindness has heightened his very pleasure, make him a near mindless thing searching for the only thing that could satisfy himself. 

Yuuri doesn't miss the sudden load of slick streaming from the omega's cocklet. He continues to suck, ignoring Victor's whimpers as the sensitivity becomes so strong enough for the omega to wish to pull away from the alpha's ravenous lips. But Victor is stronger, stubborn enough to believe he could take all of it, no matter how punishing Yuuri can become. 

Victor shoots dry the second time he comes, the intense pressure drawing sharp gasps from his lips. 

Yuuri withdraws a little, his hot breath teasing away the omega's skin. "No more slick to give, Victor? But you're so wet down here." A finger prods around Victor's entrance, and Yuuri moved aside Victor's limp cocklet. 

The alpha sucks away the slick, thrusting his tongue as deep as he could down the omega's channel. He pulls out and licks just outside the entrance, tormenting and coaxing Victor to a third orgasm. A finger slides in, so much deeper than his tongue, and Victor clenches ferociously around it, desperately searching for something to stuff him. 

But Yuuri, cruel Yuuri slips the finger out. He sucks away at it and makes the very mocking sound of a chef's kiss. Then he continues, returning his mouth to the omega's cunt and hellbent on doing everything in his power to throw the omega over the edge. 

"Please, Yuuri. Knot!" cries Victor. 

"Knot?" Yuuri hums, as if in thought. Wicked, he ponders, "But what about my dinner?"

Then he returns to eat Victor out. 

Once Victor has come one more time, the alpha gently kisses his entrance in gratitude. He licks his lips and sighs in pure satisfaction. Victor thinks he might have wiped his mouth a napkin. 

A deep, primal whisper caresses Victor's flushed skin, the alpha's breath so fine and warm against Victor's inner thigh. 

"Delicious, Victor. Thank you." 


	9. Public Sex ft. Creampie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Forniphilia</strike> | <strike>Daddy/Mommy</strike> | Public | <strike>Body Swap</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has a little more plot in it. Oops.

Victor travels from Frankfurt to Milan to Vienna to Budapest. By the end of March, he's in Rome to perform live for three days. Yuuri has gone to Seoul and then to Bangkok for more business trips. They finally have an opportunity in their difficult schedule in the middle of April in Tokyo. Victor loves Tokyo with all his nice Japanese fans. They're unbelievably kind and collected in personality as a whole, and the Japanese reporters are far more polite than their American counterparts. They actually have boundaries. 

He sighs, his body stretching after three days of performing and two days of rehearsal. He rolls over on the plush bed, and he picks up the phone from the nightstand. Victor goes to the messages app, his eyes awaiting something new from Yuuri. The last thing the omega sent was his hotel room number and hotel name.

His phone rings. Yakov Feltsman again. 

Victor pretends he isn’t here. The call goes to voicemail. 

He’ll get back to him. Someday, but not today. 

Victor, honestly, has been saying that for five years. 

A knock at the door sends Victor sprinting from the bed. He takes one look at himself, long silver hair down with Yuuri's stolen clothes on. The shirt is misbuttoned, guaranteed to drive Yuuri crazy by the end of the night. There's only an innocently white thong covering up the little of modesty he has left. There was never much to begin with in the first place. 

The omega peeks through the peephole, and he sees a contorted image of one suit-clad, professional mode Yuuri Katsuki, his hands behind his back. With a heart-shaped smile, he lets the alpha in. 

Once the door closes behind them, Yuuri reveals a jewelry box. Covered with black velvet and square-shaped, the alpha smiles and holds it to the omega in a clear offering. “I have something for you.”

Victor’s eyes widen. “Is that a necklace?” 

“Yes,” the alpha answers.

“I won’t accept blood diamonds,” Victor tells him, straightforward and curt. He would die before receiving blood diamonds. In the back of his mind, he recalls the story of a young African girl who recovered a rare diamond. Her name is never known, and she probably died in destitute and poverty, never actually receiving the wealth of her discovery of a blood diamond worth millions of dollars. Blood diamonds are cultivated by slaves for nothing or next to nothing, and it breaks Victor’s heart every time he thinks about it. But he wonders Yuuri would understand him, his thoughts. So far, he has. 

He glances up at the alpha, staring right into his deep, soft brown eyes. 

The alpha’s smiles widen. “It’s not even diamonds.” He wiggles the box a little. There’s something shaking a little like beads. 

Victor raises an eyebrow, but he takes the box from the alpha’s hand. When he unlatches the delicate clasp and opens the lid up, he gasps in surprise at the bundle of pearls on a necklace. They’re of various sizes but all are perfectly round and iridescent. There’s a soft glow around the ocean’s greatest treasures, and the biggest pearl easily beats the size of a ping pong ball. They’re so beautiful, each and every one of them. 

“The centerpiece is one of the largest ever recovered from the South Sea,” explains Yuuri. “South Sea is referring to South Pacific. All of these pearls were recovered from off of Australia’s shores. South Sea pearls are notable for its size and beauty. They’re also the most eco-friendly gemstones anyone could ever receive.” 

The omega gently touch a smaller pearl, entranced by its pure color and glow. It’s terribly round, and this necklace must have cost Yuuri a small fortune. “You don’t have to give me something like this, Yuuri. It’s too much.” 

The alpha blinks, slow and satisfied. He preens under Victor’s gaze, thrilled in his own ability to provide and lavish, unparalleled to most alphas. “There’s twenty-six pearls on that necklace. Each pearl has a range between fifteen to twenty millimeters. With the exception of one,” he says, gesturing from the smaller pearls to the larger ones. “The smaller ones, because of its shape, cost about two thousand to three thousand dollars.” He quickly adds with a wave of his hand, “In American dollars.” 

“And the larger ones?”

“Five thousand at twenty millimeters.” His pale index finger poises over the largest pearl, the great centerpiece. “It takes at least two years for each pearl to grow. This one? It has a range of fifty-three millimeters. A pearl that would have taken nature years upon years to make. I’ll like to think it took five years to create this pearl. But nature of pearls is quicker than that.” A pregnant pause. “It’s even rarer to find one that’s so round and perfect. It cost eighty-three thousand dollars at the discounted rate.” 

Victor’s throat is terribly dry. “How much is the normal rate?”

The alpha hums. “Six figures, easily.”

The omega chokes. 

“The necklace, if auctioned off tomorrow,” Yuuri whispers, his eyes so heavy and intense on Victor, “will easily break half a million.”

The alpha stalks away, fierce pheromones rolling off of him in waves. Strolling to the bathroom, he turns on the faucet, removes his glasses, and throws cold water on his face. The alpha calls out, “Victor, I made a dinner reservation made at a sushi house. Did you pick up something that is a little conspicuous like I asked yesterday?” 

Victor nods, swallowing back his disappointment. He wishes he could get fucked right here with only the necklace of pearls on. Leave it to Yuuri to draw out anticipation. “Yes, I’ll get dressed then.” 

“Perfect.” 

* * *

Dinner is at a high class sushi restaurant with sectioned off rooms with wooden walls to give an illusion of privacy. The restaurant is very good at maintaining that illusion. Victor doesn’t think he has seen another customer here with the exception of Yuuri. He has seen plenty of the sushi house’s servers, chefs, and waitresses. He sits cross legged at the table, wincing as he fumbles with the sushi once again. 

Yuuri stands up and moves around the wood table to help Victor. He wraps his legs around the omega, and he presses against Victor’s back. His body heat warms Victor, forcing the omega to bite back an impolite sound, and Victor could barely focus as Yuuri’s hands gently adjusts his fingers and hand position on the chopsticks. 

The omega bares his scent gland to the alpha. 

Yuuri nips around it, never quite biting on it as per usual. He presses his scent gland over the omega’s shoulder, deeply saturating the omega with his scent. Eyes glinting knowingly, he whispers, “I’m tempted, Victor. However, I haven’t eaten since eleven this morning and I’m on good terms with the owner here. I would prefer not to ruin an excellent relationship.” He kisses Victor’s bare neck, right over the necklace of pearls, sending warm shivers down the omega’s spine. Then he returns to teaching Victor how to properly handle a chopstick. 

Victor bites back a groan. Slick is slowly dripping down from his hole, and this seems to be a perfect place to savor his alpha. Or. They could be fucking in his hotel room by now. He’s almost disappointed. 

Almost. He could never be fully disappointed by Yuuri. 

Victor gets another kiss on his neck when he successfully brings a sushi roll with raw tuna, sesame, and seaweed to his mouth. It’s good. But not as great as Yuuri’s kiss.

* * *

Victor doesn’t get a good look at the incredibly long bill. Instead, Yuuri has quickly and quietly whisked the omega away into a waiting sedan with a quiet, professional driver. They’re driven back to Victor’s hotel without a notice from any passerby. Not even a camera flash has been tossed in Victor’s direction. He thinks he may grow to like Japan a little more, now that he has seen more of it. 

They wander through the hallways, Victor eagerly wanting to drag Yuuri back up to his hotel room. However, he has completely forgotten where the elevators or the stairs are. So he’s reduced to quietly looking for them while pretending that he completely knows where they are going. 

Completely trying to distract the alpha from noticing his mistake, Victor tries for small talk. He asks, “Yuuri, you don’t go to pop concerts, do you?”

The alpha blinks. “What makes you think that?”

“You went to my concert as a VIP in a two-piece suit that is far more expensive than the fifteen dollar t-shirts that most people wear,” Victor points out, his head pivoting for a marked door labeled as the stairs. He hasn’t seen anything like that yet. 

“I had a meeting ending exactly in the middle of your concert,” Yuuri reveals, slowly pacing along with the omega. “In Manhattan. I had to rush, and your security guards almost didn’t let me in until I slipped them fifteen.”

“Bucks?” Victor fills in.

Yuuri laughs. “No, fifteen grand. I wasn’t seated in the VIP area, but I was there on the floor. I could feel you from there. You have a powerful stage presence, Victor.” A smile forms at the corner of his mouth. “The way you move across the stage, it’s like sex and innocence and love rolled into one. I could see your inspirations from Madonna, Marylin Monroe, and Whitney Houston.” 

Victor nearly misses a step. “You actually know who they are?”

“I may be out of the loop in pop culture, but it would be difficult for me to miss some of the biggest influences in music and culture in general.” He pauses, softer now. “You know, Victor. One day, there will be pop stars and singers who will look at you as their idol.” 

“Some writer in the  _ Wall Street Journal _ tore me apart, saying that I’m a dime a dozen pop star who was lucky enough to catch the right attention and it was only because of the way I look,” the omega whispers. 

“Impossible,” Yuuri says, waving it away. “Yakov Feltsman, though he hates pop music, is grateful that you still continue to write music, perform in concerts, and inspire the next generation of listeners.” 

“But he’s my old professor.”

“He’s not the only one who feels that way. Last time I talked to him, about two years ago when you won the Grammy Awards, he did mention you. We were in hmm. . . Boston. He called you a step up from most pop singers. He comes across to me as a man who rarely gives compliments.” Yuuri tilts his head. “The Russian Pavarotti has spoken the truth.” 

“Don’t call him Russian Pavarotti. At least not anywhere near him.” Victor holds back a giggle, remembering the days when Yakov Feltsman went off on a tangent to bash Italy’s greatest opera tenor. “He met him when he was only thirty years old, declared to Pavarotti himself on English soil that he will rise above him. He’s so salty that the great Luciano Pavarotti could never be called Italian Feltsman.” Some of his old classmates have taken to reenact a dramatic scene of a faceoff between Luciano Pavarotti and Yakov Feltsman, instantly dispersing when they hear Yakov’s heavy footsteps thundering near. 

Yuuri pales, horror in his very eyes. He shivers. He says the two words most Juilliard students only wish they could say: “I did.” 

Victor tries to hold back his laughter. He fails, snorts spilling out from behind his covered mouth. He thinks tears might roll from his eyes, and he may die in this moment of pure happiness and joy. He fiercely wishes to be only the mosquito nagging around Yuuri, witnessing Yakov Feltsman overhearing and then reacting to the words,  _ Russian Pavarotti.  _

“To his face,” adds Yuuri, groaning indiscernibly. He mutters something under his breath that Victor completely misses. “He didn’t say anything to correct me and I didn’t think he was insulted, but I feel so terrible now!” 

Victor, who has learned every expression Yakov has over four years of taking all of his opera classes, knows that Yakov specializes in micro-expressions. Any Juilliard student, who has studied Yakov Feltsman (and more importantly, Luciano Pavarotti), could easily pick up the tiniest twitch of an eye and the burst of a vein on the forehead, the very expressions an actor needs to carry out a scene or go on with life. 

His arms wrap around Yuuri, and he leans heavily on the alpha, wheezing of laughter. “Russian Pavarotti,” he crows, his voice loud enough to wake up the entire hotel. "You, you, you, you. Yuuri Katsuki, all of the Juilliard alumni will marry you in a heartbeat. I will give you my firstborn if you call him that again." 

He swears that he has never seen Yuuri look so conflicted. He can't blame him. Yakov, if met rarely, could be so scary to the untrained eye. But Victor has also figured out that Yuuri absolutely loves seeing the omega full, verging on pregnant. Or maybe even pregnant. Messing around with the alpha's desire to breed is the most fun he has all week.

* * *

They manage to find an elevator and venture to their floor. They're looking at room numbers when Yuuri suddenly stops. 

Yuuri strangely isn’t looking at the omega or for the hotel suite. Victor follows the gaze and sees a beautiful black concert grand piano in the middle of the wide hallway. He instantly knows where the alpha’s mind has gone. As someone from a musical background, Victor can appreciate its beauty. It’s made artfully by Sauter, a renowned German piano manufacturer. It’s an expensive piano with an impressive ability to create beautiful and accurate notes that costs six figures and a sizable chunk out of anyone’s pockets, if they weren’t Yuuri Katsuki. He sees the alpha admiring the piano too, but Victor suspects it’s  _ not _ for the same reasons. 

“I did say I wanted to fuck you on a piano,” the alpha muses. 

"Yuuri!" the omega cries in protest. "Anyone could see!" 

Strolling over to the piano, the alpha expertly closes the latch holding up the lid. He gently sets the piano lid down and then takes ahold of the omega’s wrist, pushing Victor stomach-first onto the piano. The omega’s hips hang on the edge of the piano. He growls, "Let them. Let them all know that you're  _ mine."  _

Victor's white dress is pulled up in a hurry, and Yuuri's hand spreads Victor's ass cheeks apart. Victor's holds the piano's lid, desperate for a place to hold as his leg muscles work overtime to keep him on the piano. Yuuri ruts against his ass, his clothed erection hard and ready to sink so deep inside of Victor. 

“Desperate, Victor?” A finger tests Victor’s entrance, finding it sopping wet. “Good. You should feel how desperate I am for you, Victor.” He pushes his cock even harder into Victor. 

A zipper unzips, and Victor nearly sobs in relief. 

A hook of his finger jerks aside Victor’s thong, and without any preparation, Yuuri pushes himself into Victor’s cunt. His channel, so bereft of Yuuri’s hard and warm cock, has taken in dildos and vibrators between Yuuri’s absences. When he’s in Beverly Hills, he has taken to freely abusing the fucking machine outside of his medically-induced heats. None of those feel as good as Yuuri, though they all severely remind Victor of the alpha. Trying to remember and replay Yuuri’s low, husky voice wrapping around him with the knotting dildo inside his cunt is not enough.

Hands slipping on the piano lid, Victor tries his best to push back at Yuuri, clawing for his release and squeezing the alpha hard with powerful kegel muscles as if to never let go of his cock. 

“I’ve missed you,” the alpha whispers, leaning over the omega without weighing him down. “I’ve missed being inside of you, Victor. So tight, so hot around me, Victor.” His voice is even quieter. Slowly thrusting into Victor’s cunt, he murmurs, “Sometimes I like to imagine you on me for hours, Victor.” 

The omega moans, his palm sweating on the piano lid. He slips a little, his foot suddenly not touching the floor. He panics slightly, tightening himself around Yuuri. 

“I got you, Victor,” Yuuri says. 

Hot come spurts inside Victor’s cunt, the alpha groaning in release. He continues pounding away, not slowing down at all but rather speeding up. His hands move from Victor’s hips to his thighs, spreading the omega’s legs even wider to hit even deeper into the omega’s channel. Victor’s hands scrambles to find purchase, his moans so loud in the posh hallways. 

Yuuri growls, leaning down to teeth at the edge of Victor’s sensitive, neglected scent gland. It’s enough to send Victor spiraling into his first orgasm, his moan drawn out of his lips like a prayer. Victor’s vision briefly whites out, his muscles relaxing in release. 

“I can’t wait to have you all to myself for the next two days,” growls Yuuri. His grip tightens on Victor’s thigh, and the omega loves it, loves the possessive touch to it. “I won’t have you leaving the bed at all,” he darkly promises. 

Victor begs. “Yes, please, Yuuri. Don’t let me leave,” he babbles. 

A door quietly creaks open.

"Yuuri?" A woman's voice is dipped in horror and shock. The scent of a confused alpha and then a horrified one wafts over to Victor. She smells so similar to Yuuri, but there’s an edge of pepper and sesame to the floral, subtle scent of cherry blossoms. 

Victor screams at the sight of an elegantly dressed alpha with a thick necklace of sparkling white diamonds. Her hand is caught frozen in her dyed brown-block hair. 

"Mari?" Yuuri shrieks, completely undignified with his pants down. His dick, once so hard and engorged and irresistible to Victor, shrinks inside of Victor’s cunt. He pulls himself out of Victor, the pearly white come spilling out of the omega’s hole. He quickly tugs up his belt and slacks, quickly covering himself up with shaking fingers. 

Hands covering her eyes, she ducks back into the room she ventured out of it, the door slamming shut and shaking the walls. 

Yuuri pulls down Victor’s dress, grabs the omega in a princess carry, and then dashes to their hotel suite. Once safely behind the door, they both give out identical sighs of relief. Victor turns his back to the door and sinks down to the carpet floor. Yuuri’s seed is still dripping out of his cunt. 

“Who was that?” the omega asks. 

Yuuri blushes. “That was my older sister.” His cheeks, so flushed with blood, tinges with embarrassment. “I did not expect to see her in a hotel.”

Victor shudders. He agrees. He doesn’t expect any of his distant cousins to randomly appear on the same floor in the same hotel while he’s in flagrante delicto. 

“She usually stays at our family’s hot spring resort if she’s in Japan. Or if she’s in Tokyo, she lives in her apartment,” explains Yuuri, a tone of disbelief in his voice as he searches through his pockets. He pulls out his phone. “She works for Toyota as one of their Executive Vice President and oversees thirty to forty subsidiaries that are specifically for manufacturing automobiles or some of their engine parts. She travels almost as much as me.”

Victor has no idea what any of that means. 

He shows the omega his phone, which lingers in contacts. Specifically on a Mari-neesan. “I have to call her before she decides to convince hotel management to ban me forever. It’s fifty-fifty if she’ll do that.” Sheepishly raising the phone to his ear, he says, “Hello, Mari.” There’s murmurs of his sister’s words from the speaker. Yuuri nods, his flush fading away from his cheeks. “You want to me to do that?” He’s a little incredulous, but Victor could recognize the strictly business side of Yuuri drawing in, flicking itself on like a switch in an instant. “You couldn’t pass it onto the in-house lawyers to deal with that?” He hums at his sister’s explanation. “Sure, I’ll do it. But you’ll have to work around my schedule with SoftBank. They’re taking far longer than I’ve expected. Wait, what? But Mari, really?” 

The alpha shakes his head, his cheeks reddening again. He turns to the omega and offers the smartphone to Victor. “She wants to talk to you.” 

Victor slowly takes the phone, surprised. He nervously raises the phone to his ear, wondering if Mari is going to chew him out and to order him to stay away from Yuuri forever or else she’ll impose a sniper on him. Or maybe she’ll call him names like slut and whore and brainless. Then she’ll rub something like an arranged marriage between Yuuri and some fancy, demure Japanese omega in his face, so certain that Victor will never be more than a fling. He shakily whispers, “Hello?” 

“Hello, my name is Mari Katsuki. It’s such a shame we have to meet each other this way,” she says, disappointment in her voice. 

“I’m sorry,” he quickly replies. 

“Why are you sorry? It’s my dumbass of a brother who needs to be sorry. Anyway, I’m sorry that I do not know your name.”

“Victor,” he answers, a little more relaxed. 

“Victor? You are an American, right?”

He nods, and then realizes that she can’t see. “Yes,” he confirms. 

“You look familiar,” she muses. She doesn’t dwell on it, however. “But if you are in town for a little while, I suggest going to Yu-topia Hot Spring Resort in Hasetsu, Kyushu. It’s a wonderful place to relax. It’s been said the waters there are capable of healing anything.” 

“Yu-topia?” repeats Victor, his brain trying to spell it. 

In a flash, Yuuri is right by Victor’s ear. He growls at the phone. “Mari, stop trying to get Victor to see our parents.” To Victor, he asks, “Please put it on speakerphone.” With a touch of his hand on the small of the omega’s back, he guides him to the parlour and then takes a seat on the soft sofa, pulling Victor onto his lap. 

On the speakerphone, Mari’s voice is deceptively innocent. Probably the same voice she uses to lure all her future victims. “Yu-topia is known for its hot springs. It would do Victor some good if he stays there. We both know that your stubborn and idiotic ass is very dumb, Yuuri. Victor will need all of the help he can get.”

“Mari,” protests Yuuri. “Shouldn’t you be working?” 

A smile curls up at the corner of Victor’s lips. 

“Phichit—”

“That’s it. I’m disposing Phichit,” he declares. “Why do you all talk to each other? I have a boring life of work and travel. There’s nothing else to see, Mari.” His words are underscored by panic. “Absolutely nothing!” 

She sighs, clearly used to Yuuri’s antics. “Really? Phichit had to find out in New York City of all places that you have been squirreling away a new lover for months! You asked for his help to sneak both of you out of Four Seasons. You haven’t been seeing anyone important worth that much time and effort in over five years. What do you think everyone thinks when you are finally seeing someone again? Okaa-san is planning your wedding. She has a draft for the invitation cards. If you don’t believe it, listen to this: Minako-sensei stopped drinking six weeks ago. She’s saving sake for your wedding!” 

Victor thinks Yuuri broke. The alpha’s staring dumbfounded at the floor. A Twitter meme could be made after him with the caption of  _ How is this my life? _


	10. Erotic Dancing ft. Blowjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Toys</strike> | <strike>Bondage</strike> | <strike>Leather</strike> | Erotic Dancing

“Really? Phichit had to find out in New York City of all places that you have been squirreling away a new lover for months! You asked for his help to sneak both of you out of Four Seasons. You haven’t been seeing anyone important worth that much time and effort in over five years. What do you think everyone thinks when you are finally seeing someone again? Okaa-san is planning your wedding. She has a draft for the invitation cards. If you don’t believe it, listen to this: Minako-sensei stopped drinking six weeks ago. She’s saving sake for your wedding!”

Yuuri is broken, Victor can see so clearly. Quickly trying to keep the conversation going, Victor cheerfully says, a wide heart-shaped smile on his lips, “Oh, but that’s so far away. I don’t think we’re anywhere close to that stage.” 

Yuuri raises his head, his mouth opening for a second. Then he shuts it, distantly reminding Victor of a confused goldfish. 

Mari laughs. "Oh, please. I suspect we'll be sending invitations out by the end of the year. Yuuri has never been so serious about anybody." She pauses, "I have to attend a dinner with the bosses tonight.  _ Mata ne,  _ Victor.  _ Mata chikai uchi ni ne,  _ Yuuri."

"See you, Mari," says Yuuri. 

Victor recognizes the end of a conversation. "Goodbye," he calls out. 

Mari hangs up. 

A long moment of silence. 

Victor doesn't know what to think. He doesn't even know what their relationship is, now that they simply aren't fucking. He doesn't know what they are, what do they even mean to each other. He doesn't even know if he can figure it out, which is why he let out a sigh of relief when Yuuri's phone rings. It’s the fire truck siren ringtone, which Victor has learned over the months, to be someone very important enough that Yuuri can’t ignore. Victor doesn’t recognize the name of that person, a Min-so Park, flashing on Yuuri’s phone, but at almost one in the morning, Yuuri Katsuki takes the phone and accepts the call. 

He mutters to the omega. “Sorry, I have to take this phone call. It’s one of the partners.” Then he walks over to the screen door, stepping onto the balcony. There’s a fast conversation that Victor only catches syllables and sounds. The language isn’t even English or Japanese but something else entirely. 

“Partners?” Victor whispers, confused. The worst ideas, the worst meanings of that word, buries itself in the back of his mind.

* * *

Though the words of Mari Katsuki has thrown Victor off, he does not let it stop him or his plans. Victor has never been one to knowingly follow through his current lover’s plans, whether they are incredibly dominant like Yuuri or less so. In Yuuri’s case, Victor just wants to give him a surprise. Like many of the unexpected surprises Yuuri has shown him, whether it’s a new gift or a new experience. 

Stepping out of the shower, the omega wanders over to his largest suitcase by the door and double-checks to make sure the box is still there. It is, thankfully. He’s so glad airport security didn’t open up his suitcase at all when he checked in it. It would have made somebody’s retirement secured for the next two hundred years. 

So to shake off the concert’s fatigue on his body, Victor proceeds to slip on not a shred of clothing to sleep and sneaks under the covers. He shuts off most of the lights except the bathroom’s, which wouldn’t bother him too much when he sleeps. He would hate for Yuuri to accidentally trip while returning inside in complete darkness. 

He pleasantly wakes up next morning smelling the alpha near. There’s a cold dent in the mattress from where the alpha slept, and Victor stretches unhurriedly with a smile and rolls over to rub Yuuri’s lingering scent over his skin. Victor blinks slowly and spies a silver tray with a simple note card resting over the covered plates on the nightstand. Shaking out his long, surprisingly untangled silver hair, Victor reaches out for the note. 

He reads:  _ Victor, I have a 7-8:30am teleconference. I will be back by 9am. Yuuri.  _

Victor’s finger traces underneath the neat handwritten words. It’s incredibly readable and beautiful, the lines and loops graceful and soft. Personal and considerate. He loves it.

* * *

It takes a little longer than expected to set up his equipment in the hotel bedroom. Typically, it’s Chris or his instructor who helps him do it. But because he’s alone, Victor has to figure out how to secure the portable dance pole without it falling on the omega’s head. And more important, he needs to secure it so he doesn’t fall off it while doing a maneuver. He has only been practicing for a few months, his muscles and skin slowly getting used to odd positions. He swears that there are places on him that hurt, places that Victor didn’t even know could hurt. After testing out the pole, Victor is satisfied when it shows no sign of collapsing. 

In a black thong, the omega quickly sets up the sound speakers. He has over ten years of experience messing around with these equipment, unlike the portable pole. He holds his phone in one hand, and then he glances at the clock on the nightstand. 

8:49 am. 

Almost time. 

Victor’s heart beats quickly, anticipation in every bone and flesh of his body. Learning how to pole dance is merely for part of an act for his concerts next month, but he wants Yuuri to be the first one to see it live and at a close distance. And he wants Yuuri to be the only one who could touch. 

The front door opens. Yuuri’s voice calls out, “Victor, I’m back. The teleconference did end up being longer than I thought it would be. One of the partners decided to announce his birthday, and we all had to congratulate him for five minutes. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be here when—”

“Hello, Yuuri,” purrs Victor. 

The alpha’s voice cuts off when he spies Victor leaning against the pole in just a skimpy black, eco-friendly thong. He chokes, nervously reaching up to adjust his glasses. “Victor?” 

The omega smiles. With hips swaying, Victor gestures to the empty armchair in front of him. “Welcome back, Yuuri. Why don’t you sit down?” He resists smirking when the alpha obeys, and he saunters over to the bed, making sure the alpha gets a full and unobstructed view of his backside as he leans over to press a button on his phone connected to the sound speakers via Bluetooth to start a music track. 

The beat starts after a few seconds of delay. The electric guitars begin, and Victor devastatingly smirks at Yuuri. With hips rolling and feet delicately moving, the omega spins tauntingly in front of the alpha. He lands on the floor on all fours, his ass pointing directly to Yuuri. He throws his hair back behind his shoulders, his mouth parting when he hears the alpha growl. Slick is most definitely soaking into the fabric of his thong.

Then the chords before his verse shrieks, sharp and loud. The pop song, which came two years ago, blares from the speakers. 

The alpha’s eyes furrow, as if trying to pinpoint the song. 

Using his infamous husky voice, Victor cries out, “Oh, oh, baby daddy!” 

Yuuri chokes, his cheeks reddening. 

He slowly crawls up to the pole, hanging onto it for dear life. Using his legs, he pulls up and makes sure the metal drags against his clothed crotch. He winds around the pole, singing. “I ain’t got no money, but I still got rent.” 

He stops, the pole splitting apart his ass cheeks. Slick is dripping from his cunt and a little down his thigh, and he’s so certain from the rigid way the alpha is sitting, Yuuri can smell it. He rolls his head, his silver hair flying wildly in an arc. “We still have love, but I ain’t got ten cents.” The drums play in the background, and Victor turns around and pulls himself up the pole, working himself into an eye opener and splitting his legs in midair. It’s difficult for him, but Chris gave him some pointers. 

The alpha approves, his eyes transfixed to Victor’s every move. 

“So sugar daddy,” Victor purrs, unfolding his legs and dropping all the way to form a backwards curve of his spine. “Bring some sugar home!” 

He twists around the pole, moving from one position to another. He works a little off the pole, his hips and ass shaking to the sultry beat. He slips into the fireman spin, his arm muscles stretching with ease. It’s one of the first pole tricks he learned. He shifts into the Superman, and on a whim, he tries for the hardest pole tricks he has in his arsenal, the Dove. He purrs with deep pleasure when Yuuri gasps and claps, but he grimaces when he has to extricate himself ungracefully off the pole. 

Shaking his loose hair out, he abandons the pole for the alpha’s lap. Throwing himself over Yuuri, he seductively sings, “So if you got some sugar for me, sugar daddy bring it home!” He turns around, his butt rubbing against the hard erection in Yuuri’s lap. With a purr, Victor finds the alpha’s mouth and eagerly captures it as the song comes to an end. 

Wickedly, Yuuri whispers, “So am I allowed to touch, Agape?”

Victor almost protests being called Agape by Yuuri of all people. But then he flirtatiously wink, his eyes innocently wide and his voice so soft. “But Yuuri. No one gets to touch Agape.” He runs a gentle finger down the alpha’s jawline. 

The alpha growls, his hands drawing back. Narrowing his intense brown eyes, he surprisingly declares, “Challenge accepted.” 

“Huh?” The omega blinks. 

With a little push from the alpha, the omega finds himself in the chair Yuuri just vacated. The omega tracks the alpha as he moves to the bed, slipping off his socks. 

Yuuri messes up his gelled hair. Holding up Victor’s phone, he requests the password. Flicking through some apps, Yuuri hits a button and then sets the phone down. He stands still, stiffening. His arms crack as he suddenly stretches, quickly and speedily moving around the joints. The song snaps in, Lil’ Kim’s voice smoothly rapping the opening line. 

The omega covers his mouth in shock. 

Strutting, Yuuri pulls off his glasses and shakes out of his suit jacket. Smoothly and expertly, he yanks off his black tie and tugs off his dress shirt, leaving puddles of clothes on the carpet. He strips off his pants, kicking them off his feet. Dressed only in his boxers, he confidently strolls to the pole, not even acknowledging the omega’s presence. He rolls his back, and then Yuuri grips the pole, spinning around with ease, his feet still firmly dancing on the ground. 

Victor’s thong is ruined for life. There is no way he is sending this one in for laundry. 

_ “Upon her black satin sheets,” _ Pinks sings, the music blasting out from the speakers.  _ “Where he started to freak.” _

Then Yuuri takes off, climbing the pole as high as he could. He transitions into a flawless downward knee spin, hitting the floor. His back, so visible to the omega’s view, contours beautifully. The back muscles flex, powerful and subtle. The alpha slowly rises, circling and suggestively touching the pole like a lover. 

Victor has never been so jealous of an inanimate object. 

The alpha gains height again, maneuvering himself into a spinning Stag. His feet lands on the ground, better than a cat's reflexes, as he shifts out of the advanced pole trick. Yuuri, his face drawn in deep concentration, transitions so smoothly as if he was born dancing on a pole. He simply glides in and out, weaving his body around as if pole dancing is merely his nature. With every move and step and twist, Yuuri makes a new form of magic, altering himself from the Divine Diva to a Cupid and finally, when the song is about to close, to Eros. 

The song is in the last beats when Yuuri sinks to the floor and crawls to Victor with adoration in his eyes. He pants quickly, his cheeks red. He stops to kneel in front of the omega. Merely inches away from the omega, Yuuri asks, “Is that enough to allow me to touch Agape?”

Wordlessly, unable to speak at all, Victor parts his bruised legs in an open invitation. 

Smirking at the omega, Yuuri slips off Victor’s thong and tosses it over his shoulder. He gathers Victor’s legs, one on each of his shoulder. He blows cold air gently at Victor’s hard cocklet, his mouth parting in full blown eagerness when Victor’s entire body shivers. Then his hot mouth sucks in the cocklet, easily bottoming out. He torments the omega quickly, driving him closer and closer to the edge. 

Victor thrashes, desperately begging. "Yuuri, harder, please. Harder! More!" 

The alpha enters two fingers, pumping along. The other hand squeezes the omega's thigh, encouragingly. 

When Victor is so close, his body flushing and showing the signs of coming, Yuuri devilishly stops. He taunts, "I thought Agape is not allowed to be touched." 

Victor bites back, desire and want so deep inside his core that he thinks if he holds it back any longer, he may actually explode. "You don't make me come, Agape will be allowed to touch  _ anyone."  _

The alpha growls, jealousy written clear in his eyes. He grips a hand completely around the omega's cocklet and dives his tongue deep into Victor's cunt. When Yuuri sends Victor deep into the thrall of his release, clear slick ejaculate from the omega's cocklet and lands all over Yuuri's night-black hair and crimson cheeks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor's song -> inspiration: Lady Gaga's You and I; Sugar Daddy from Hedwig and the Angry Inch.
> 
> Actually, I literally copied a line from that show.


	11. Formal Wear ft. Marathon Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formal Wear | <strike>ABDL/Ageplay</strike> | <strike>Oviposition</strike> | <strike>Glory Hole</strike>

With Victor's head on his chest, the alpha blinks slowly and carefully uses a hand to comb out the tangles in the omega's hair. He purrs as he goes, the content sounds music to the omega's ears. The alpha starts against at the omega's scalp and pulls his fingers through, watching every strand. Occasionally, a knot of hair arises, and the alpha uses both hands to patiently untangle Victor's hair. 

Victor sighs, smiling. "Yuuri?" 

The alpha hums. "Yes?" 

"Where did you learn how to pole dance?" The omega turns to watch the alpha's face, examining every expression. 

"Fifteen years ago," the alpha answers honestly, surprisingly not even a tiny bit ashamed. 

Any other alpha wouldn't pole dance, Victor thinks. They still love pole dancers. He questions, "Where did you learn it from?" 

"College. I went to college with Phichit and did pole dancing classes with him, cause they were after dark and in a bad area in Detroit. He was working part time at a strip club to help pay for tuition. That was before he got discovered by Calvin Klein." Yuuri pause, thoughtfully. “Actually, I think he was still working for the strip club while modeling for Calvin Klein until he started breaking out in Asia.” 

"You didn't work in college?" 

"My family had money. They paid for my international student tuition fees," Yuuri reveals. "My mom was one of the first female omega senior executives at Mitsubishi. My dad was a senior partner of the firm." 

Victor nods, taking the information in. "But how did the hot springs come in?" 

"They grew up in Hasetsu. My dad helped out the hot springs when he was young. It was a poor seaside town with a population of ten thousand back then, the population shrinking in the twentieth century. Most of the youths like my parents leave for the big city to find jobs. My dad's older brother died without children. The hot springs went to my dad, who took it as a sign to retire ten years ago at fifty-six. They moved from Tokyo to Hasetsu to keep the hot spring alive. It was the only hot spring in town." Yuuri breathes in, continuing the story. “Before my dad retired, one of the last things he did for the firm was to end the rental contract in Tokyo for the computer servers. He moved all of our computer servers to Hasetsu and bought the land for cheap. He built a building half a mile from the sea, bringing business back to the small town.” 

Victor smiles. “Your dad brought the town back to life.” 

“He did,” agrees Yuuri. He slowly sits up, drawing the omega up with him. Spooning Victor, he gives one last brush through his silver long hair. He scents the omega with his heavy, content pheromones. Then the alpha kisses his shoulder and whispers gently, “I’ll be back in a minute. Have to get something for you.” 

Still naked, he returns to the bedroom with two boxes. One is a golden clothing box, some designer scribbled on the side. The other is not so clear. It could for another extravagant set of jewelry, or it could be something else entirely. It's a wood box, deep brown with a handmade bronze clasp. It's about the size of a chihuahua, though much wider than the miniature dog. 

"There's an opera playing tonight. I know I did say I was going to keep you in bed, but I'm wondering if you want to go out." 

"Which opera?" Victor asks, unable to flat out refuse. It has been a long time since attending one that wasn't performed by Yakov Feltsman. He would like to lounge all day in bed, but he'll at least consider it. 

"Puccini's _ Turandot." _ The alpha sets the boxes on the edge of the bed, watching Victor carefully. 

This, Victor pauses at. 

Unbiddenly, he finds himself nodding in complete consent. Puccini's _ Madame Butterfly _ and _ Turandot _ were one of the first operas Victor ever saw. Perhaps at five years old. Then he was, just staring at the television on the classical channel while Luciano Pavarotti was singing. 

It was beautiful, inspiring, one of its kind. Even though the grainy television screen, he knew that opera, music actually, was something magical.

* * *

Yuuri ends up fucking him all throughout the day, never letting him have a peek at the boxes' contents as usual. The hotel suite has a parlour, a kitchen, two bars, a large bathroom, a bedroom, and a balcony. Of course, Yuuri has taken to fucking him on every surface possible. 

They start off in the bedroom, easily messing up the pristine white sheets and throwing the comforters on the floor. Victor rides reverse cowgirl on the lying alpha, his head thrown back and hair flying wild. 

“I’m not going to stop,” Yuuri says, his eyes dark and intense as he stares up at the omega bouncing on his cock. 

He makes good promises to Victor. 

Yuuri, unsurprisingly, does not knot the omega. 

He instead suggests a light snack, so Yuuri proceeds to lift Victor into the kitchen and plant him butt-naked on the countertops. Musing through the fridge, the alpha picks up some pre-sliced apples and feeds each piece to the omega. The alpha also chugs half a bottle of mineral water down. 

Victor perks up. Yuuri is getting serious. He always gets thirsty before doing several good sessions of sex. A fucking excellent marathon, that is.

After Victor takes the last apple down his gullet, the alpha growls and pushes apart his thighs to grip at his cocklet. Yuuri gives him a few punctual rubs before shoving in his entire length into Victor's cunt, forcing the omega to hang onto the alpha like a lifeline. 

They end up in the small bathtub after Yuuri pulls out of Victor, his knot angrily red at being denied. Hot pearly white seed splatters all over the counter, Victor's thighs, his opening, his stomach and cocklet, and even his hair. 

"I wouldn't want to have penetrative sex in this tub," whispers Yuuri, his hand tightly wrapped around the omega's cocklet as he pushes Victor closer and closer to his release. "I hope our first time in the tub will be in my hot tub in Barcelona. You'll like it, Victor. I promise." 

Slick spurts out of the omega's cocklet, dirtying the bath water. Victor can almost feel tears drawing out from the corner of his eye. 

Yuuri works Victor in the parlour, splaying the omega's body wide open on the sofa. His cock drives in and out of Victor, thrusting deeper and deeper as if he can’t get enough of Victor. As if he could eat every part of flesh Victor has to offer yet not feel satiated at all. A large part of Victor hopes he’ll never be satiated of this hunger for the omega, so he could consume Victor at the most carnal level, returning to the omega again and again, never finding anyone else that could be Victor. 

Then he bends Victor open over the barstools, pounding into him and thrusting over and over again. The omega could barely hold onto the swaying stools, threatening to topple over from Yuuri’s powerful thrusts. Victor whimpers, for his hole has grown quite puffy with tenderness from all the delicious friction that his slick couldn’t protect him from. But Yuuri. Yuuri, the alpha, oh, the alpha, is still so hard inside of Victor’s channel, raging through Victor’s body like a blazing California brush fire. 

As Yuuri nips around Victor’s scent gland on his neck, he pulls a few inches and whispers, “Victor, I’m not going to stop.” He kisses right on the scent gland, moaning. “It’s not going down.”

“Good,” Victor says back, rather stupidly. 

When Yuuri has him on his knees and elbows on the soft carpet floor in the parlour, Victor is fully aware that he could easily use his safe word. Eros, a simple word. A purr of his tongue. But to the omega, Yuuri fully intends to wreck Victor in all possible ways until his cock finally goes down. And to the omega, he wants very much to see it through the end. 

But the carpet burn is surely going to kill him tomorrow.

* * *

The alpha’s knot finally cools down right before five o’clock, just in time for dinner. Instead of eating anything that resembles actual food, Victor had a large helping of Yuuri’s seed straight down his throat right in between fucking on the secluded balcony and on top of the kitchen’s bar. Victor power-naps the next hour, recuperating from the soreness around in his channel, in the swollen lips around his entrance, on the skin around his back, and in his legs. 

The alpha, so full of energy, wakes up the sleepy omega and carries him into the bathtub for a wash. Victor completely falls asleep when Yuuri removes the showerhead and thoroughly rinses spunk out of his silver-blond hair. He wakes up later on the bed sore and aching in every muscle, a cotton bathrobe wrapped around his frame. It’s nighttime, the city lights of Tokyo lighting up the windows. 

Humming softly under his breath, the dressed alpha places the two boxes on the omega’s lap. Leaning close to the omega, Yuuri whispers, “Victor, we don’t have to go.”

Stubbornly and ignoring Yuuri’s words, he shakes his head. He sits up, groaning at the soreness from his well-fucked hole. It’s not going to recover for days. “It’s _ Turandot, _Yuuri. I’m not missing it even if there are twenty thousand paparazzi with cameras waiting right outside of the opera house.”

The alpha nods, removing the wood box on top of the dress box. He sets it aside and says, “Very well. But you’ll need a dress.” 

“I have many,” Victor replies, thinking of the many Agape clothes he has in his suitcases. He never wears the same thing twice. The ones that end up extremely popular and infamous like the extravagant meat dress he once wore for the Golden Globes ends up being preserved and then auctioned off for charity. The others end up being recycled into new dresses. 

“I got you one.”

The first thing Victor thinks when Yuuri helps him put the dress on is this: He’s dressed a little on the slutty side for an opera. It’s cut low in a V, perfect for Yuuri’s earlier gift of an expensive pearl necklace. The shiny, shimmering silver dress, the same shade as his hair, fits him perfectly, snug as a glove. Every curve of the omega's body is underlined, visible. The hem ends three inches below his butt cheeks, too easily accessible for Yuuri’s hands. From the pleased way Yuuri looks as he glances up the dress while slipping on the omega’s flats, Victor knows that it’s on purpose. 

Victor doesn’t say anything. Yet. 

He almost wants to, because even though Yuuri’s cock has been satiated and satisfied by a marathon, it’s clear the alpha still has some devious intentions. 

Moving to the bed and picking up the box, the alpha presents the wood box in front of Victor. He says, “This gift is purely selfish.” 

“And the dress isn’t?” Victor raises an eyebrow. 

Yuuri smirks. “Well, it’s close to pure selfishness but not like this one.” He pops the top of the box, and he reveals a fleshy, ultramarine blue dildo. Upon closer inspection, the blue silicone is intermingled with sparkling gold specks like winking stars in the night sky. 

“A blue dildo?” 

“I like blue.” 

Victor solemnly nods. “Selfish indeed.”

Yuuri takes it out of the box, and then he kneels on the carpet again. He brushes his lips against Victor’s bare thigh, a hand gently wandering up his leg. With a sinful smirk, he pushes aside Victor’s thong and slowly works the thick and long dildo deep into Victor’s cunt. The omega bites back a moan as it drives into his sore cunt, inch by inch. When the dildo settles in completely, he tugs the black thong back over the omega’s entrance. After pressing a soft kiss on Victor’s thigh, he rises. 

“I won’t be able to knot tonight, Victor. Not after all of this,” he admits.

The omega nearly lets a sigh of relief. 

Reaching down, Yuuri pats Victor’s hardening cocklet. “But I want you to wear a replica of me all through the night,” he whispers, seduction dripping from his words. With a smirk, he holds the front door open for the limping omega. 

They get there two minutes before the opera begins. An usher escorts them to an extremely private box. As Victor sits down in his fancy but slutty dress, the dildo shifts in him, pressing insistently against his prostate. Victor sharply gasps, biting back a moan. Yuuri knowingly smirks, his hands possessively running over the omega's arm.


	12. Cockwarming ft. Subspace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha/Beta/Omega | <strike>Degradation</strike> | <strike>Collaring</strike> | Cockwarming

It’s the end of April when Yuuri strangely texts some random address with a date and time. Beverly Hills, California 90210. A courier brings Victor a large yellow envelope to the studio. Victor, just emerging from a meeting that went nowhere with his contract, is confused. He opens the envelope, surprised to find only a set of keys at the bottom. 

His phone buzzes. 

Yuuri

If you're not busy, then go to the address. 

Whenever possible. Within the next two days. 

I have something for you. 

Text me when you are heading there. 

I want to be there with you.

* * *

Victor, still angry from the meeting, doesn't meet up with Yuuri right away. He goes home to his apartment and cools down with an exceptionally long hot shower. He cuddles with Makkachin on the couch, and finally, he grabs his phone. On a whim, he looks up the address. Real estate websites are the first results to pop up, revealing the house, really a mansion, was bought four years ago for a cool 26 million. Its current estimated value is 38 million with its expansive gardens, swimming pool, tennis courts, and a shitload of rooms. 13, in fact. 

Victor quirks up an eyebrow. 

It's not anything like Yuuri's middle class home in Frankfurt, Germany. It's something completely different, obnoxiously expensive with elegant design. In fact, it would probably be something Victor would buy. Plenty of room for Makkachin to roam with potential for more doggos to adopt. He could kind of picture Yuuri doing the same but maybe in a few decades when he retires from his work. He hopes Yuuri will eventually adopt a large doggo family. 

Smiling as he pulls up his messages app, he texts Yuuri, _ hey, can I bring Makkachin too? _

His heart misses a beat when he gets an instant reply from the alpha. 

_ Please do. I would be happy to meet her at last. _

So Victor takes Makkachin and her favorite leash, hops down the stairs to the fourth story, cheerfully waves hi and bye to the security officer at the desk, and then taps impatiently as the elevator drags him down to the basement. Makkachin boofs as she hops into the pink convertible without waiting for the omega to open the door. Laughing, Victor shamelessly climbs over the door and starts the ignition with a push. 

Google Map directs him all the way as the houses become sparser with increasing amounts of land. Small businesses disappear entirely. It's pure residential area, only for exceptionally wealthy people with the income or wealth to support their lifestyle. Victor would know. His apartment, which is closer to the city and only worth ten million, requires maintenance and security and a lot of other problems that puts him behind six figures every year. It only gives him a brief headache to think about until he remembers that he did hire some people to do his financials. 

He finds the exorbitant mansion with its ivy gate left ajar. When he pulls up, the metal gate rolls open, allowing a pathway up the driveway. It's an incredibly long driveway with a few turns. 

He spies the alpha waiting for him in front of the house. He's merely wearing a black tracksuit with matching running shoes. It briefly throws the omega off, who has only ever seen the alpha wearing power suits or less. 

Parking his convertible, he laughs when Makkachin doesn't even wait to tackle the alpha the ground. Yuuri yelps in surprise, both poodle and alpha landing on the perfectly green and uniformed grass. The large poodle furiously licks at Yuuri's cheeks, quite taken with the alpha. 

“Sorry,” he calls out, resisting a smile. “She loves you!” 

_ I love you, _ he silently adds, a shadow falling across his face as loose strands of hair fall forward to cover his eye. Or maybe it’s not a true love. But it’s a love that could easily blossom. This love could also die, decaying and withering away when there’s only one side loving the other, the arch only half standing. But Victor sets that thought aside, not worrying about it for today. It’s for future Victor, a person who doesn’t exist yet. 

The poodle paddles off of the alpha, tongue lolling and tag wagging as she returns to Victor’s side. She sits, clearly the picture of a good girl. 

Yuuri smiles, adjusting his glasses and then his tracksuit. “Come on. I got something to show you.” Ever beholden to Japanese customs, he slips off his running shoes. 

Victor does the same, walking through the fancy house in merely his mismatched socks. 

As Yuuri shows the omega room after room, bathroom and bathtubs, the heart-shaped swimming pool and the water-drop-shaped outdoor spas, the grandiose master bedroom, the five-car parking garage, and even a guesthouse, Victor wonders why he needs to be here. Every room is exquisitely put together. Unique themes and patterns streak through the curtains, the floor pattern, the pictures on the wall, the furniture. All of it down the finest, most thoughtful details. The library sits on the second floor, devoid of books but filled with bookshelves. The wine cellar, same. Empty of bottles, but stuffed with racks. 

Makkachin by his side, Victor quietly wonders aloud, "Yuuri, why did you bring me here?" 

"It's yours." Yuuri pauses mid-step, right before the next room. "It's for you." 

The omega blinks. 

He does not compute. 

"I thought you would love this place. You once said that when you get old, you'll want a place for twenty dogs with young grandchildren tripping over the puppies. Your apartment was too small to fit all of them, and they had no place to run, so I thought of this place for you," Yuuri says, a smile pulling at his lips. 

The omega, heart thumping so hard, could not speak at all. 

"You love it?"

The omega nods. He thinks he could die of happiness. This is the dream of his childhood, this is the place he imagined while singing "A House For Us To Live," a vague but pretty song to an imaginary lover about the future they could have together. 

"Then it's yours," conclude the alpha. "I have my accountants handle the financials for this property. You don't have to worry about property tax or anything. There's also a maintenance company that oversees the annual pest inspection, weekly pool maintenance, damages, the weekly maintenance for the landscape." 

There's a load of things in that sentence Victor doesn't understand. But even he, who has been declared socially incompetent in meaningful relationships, knows this is a very big step. But Victor isn't sure where Yuuri is leading him. No unmated alpha gives an unmated omega a house worth millions of dollars without expecting something in return. 

Victor recovers. "So is there a room for Makkachin?" Victor coyly asks. 

"It's your choice where she goes." 

He turns to the poodle. "Makka, you have the full rein of the house." He pats her twice on the head, watching her trot off in her own adventure. 

"The entire property is gated, so she won't be able to accidentally get lost," Yuuri adds. "There's a doggy door in the kitchen, so she could go outside if she wants." 

All of that, all of those words, warm Victor's heart. But then he suddenly grabs at the alpha and pulls him into the nearest room. "Yuuri," he purrs, dragging out the syllable. "I must really thank you." 

Yuuri's intense, dark eyes dilate. "I can think of many ways to show your gratitude, Victor." The alpha turns and zips off his jacket and pulls his under armor over his head. Shirtless, he rolls onto the bed, languishing on the golden sheets. "Come here, Victor," he says with a purr. 

The omega follows, entranced. He pulls off his simple v-neck, and Yuuri dispose the omega of his shorts. He's about to remove the omega's thong when his phone rings out in ambulance sirens. 

Yuuri sighs, his hands pulling away. "An old work contact," he explains, shoving his hand into his pocket. "I have to take this." 

The omega grabs his wrist. "But I want to thank you, Yuuri," he says insistently, the other hand slipping down to the alpha's cock. "Let me keep you warm, alpha." 

And oh, the beast in Yuuri’s eyes _ devours _the omega. In record speed, he rips off his clothes and tears off Victor’s skimpy black thong, which the omega doesn’t mind at all. He tugs the omega close to him, skin to skin, and pulls him to sit on the alpha's lap. HIs cock leaks beads of precum, poking hard against the omega’s stomach. Yuuri, his eyes flashing, says, “This might be a long phone call. I’m going to put it on speakerphone.”

Victor’s stomach flips, his slick dripping onto the alpha’s thigh. 

“Not a single sound,” warns Yuuri, reaching for the still ringing phone in his pocket. “And the second rule, Victor,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. Pheromones intensify, the alpha’s scent overwhelming the omega, enclosing him like a second skin. Posessively. The scent will last for days, and anyone walking by the omega with a working nose will tell that some alpha really has it for one Victor Nikiforov. 

“Yes?” The omega blinks, a deer in the headlights. 

“Keep me warm, Victor,” purrs the alpha. Then he accepts the call, a stoic look pulled across his face, no indication of the omega’s presence written on Yuuri. “Hello, Celestino, how are you doing today?” He sits back, lazily resting on the pillow. Dark eyes watch the omega’s every breath. 

Scrambling, the omega parts his legs and adjusts his knees to rest on both sides of Yuuri's lap. Holding the lips of his cunt apart, he slowly sinks down on the alpha’s hardened cock. Every inch glides in, the slick slightly squishing. The omega flushes, wincing, for it sounds _ terribly loud. _ He lets out a light gasp as Yuuri holds two fingers to his lips in a _ shush. _

“Celestino?” repeats Yuuri. 

“Yuuri, sorry, noise was loud in the conference room. Couldn’t hear you at all,” says an accented voice. Celestino continues, “I’m wondering if you could get some clients off my back. Not looking for you to take on the workload, but I want your opinion on their situation, Yuuri.”

Victor bites back a moan as he bottoms out. He clenches involuntarily around the alpha, slowly trying to force himself to relax. His arms fly around Yuuri’s chest, holding onto the alpha for dear life as he tries to sit as still as possible on the alpha’s length. As he listens to the calm, gentle beats of Yuuri’s heart, his muscles loosen up. His cunt doesn’t twitch or tighten around the alpha’s cock, and he finds himself steadily breathing in and out. 

He hears snippets of the alpha’s conversation. 

“Look, Exor is liquidating some of their shares. They’re looking at me to figure out what to buy, because you know that the market is getting bumpy right now. They’re nervous and thought to get an outside opinion. Especially in this unpredictable time,” says Celestino, his accented voice speaking slowly. An Italian accent, Victor recognizes. 

“I don’t deal with holding companies. They go against one of the firm’s departments,” says Yuuri. His hand casually strokes Victor’s bare thigh, forcing the omega to hold back a purr at the alpha’s attention. “But in the event of a possible market crash, it is best to go liquid. Very few stocks will be able to keep afloat in a recession. Hard to know which.” 

Victor sighs into the alpha’s shoulder. His nose presses itself against the alpha's scent gland on his neck. Yuuri’s hand glides upwards to unravel Victor’s ponytail. The omega feels gentle hands slowly combing through his hair, each touch lighter than a feather. His eyelids fall, his breaths evening out. He’s completely safe, secured. Yuuri is with him, care written in every motion and action. There’s not much of anything left in the world to think of. Just Yuuri, Victor, and the constant hardness in his cunt. 

“I also got HSBC telling me to handle one of their accounts. Some rich executive wants a very special treatment, and I can’t believe HSBC is actually letting the account be treated by a consulting firm. He thinks tech companies are the way to go.” 

“Then he should have went to a venture capitalist. Or a hedge fund manager. Or called any random tech start-ups he sees on the internet. I don’t specialize in watching any financial accounts or investments. Most of the time, I make contracts.” 

“Yuuri,” Celestino sighs. “Is this a bad time?” 

The alpha pauses. “No. Why do you ask?” 

“You’re usually more patient, Yuuri.” 

The omega's eyelids fall, completely content and connected to his alpha at a level he has never experienced before, and then Victor is seeing nothing at all.

* * *

He's later woken up with a kiss on his lips. The omega's eyes blink open, realizing he's still warming the alpha's hard length. He involuntarily lets out a purr, not even checking if Yuuri is still connected to his phone call. 

Then Yuuri pants, his softened cock twitching in Victor's cunt. He gasps, "Victor, you fell asleep." 

Victor suddenly remembers that he had one job. And he completely failed it by napping on the alpha. "I'm sorry!" 

The alpha presses a few more kisses on the omega's cheek, his reassuring scent brushing over the omega. "No, it's okay, Victor. You did well for your first time. Do you want to get off of me?" 

"No," vehemently protests the omega. "I still didn't get to show you how much I appreciated your gift." 

A smirk comes across the alpha. He lazily leans back on the pillows, all eyes on the omega. "In that case, Victor. . . You may _ present _your gratitude." 

The omega braces himself on the alpha's shoulder. His cunt tightens around Yuuri's growing member, the alpha's cock so familiar in his channel. He starts off slowly, realizing that yes, Yuuri is indeed letting him do all the work. He squeezes harder around the alpha's cock, moving his muscles faster. He rocks the engorged length deeper and deeper into himself, moans spilling from his lips. The slick lewdly squelch. Then after a hard angle, Victor pushes the alpha's cock against his prostate, coming undone, his cocklet spilling shamelessly over Yuuri's stomach. 

Victor pants, his aching body arching in the aftermath of his orgasm. 

The alpha purrs, still so achingly hard in the omega's cunt. His fingernail brushes against Victor's hard nipple. "So selfish, omega. Taking the pleasure just for yourself. I thought this was supposed to show your gratitude. I'm very disappointed." 

Victor stiffens. 

Yuuri sighs, a dark spark switching itself on. He leans into the omega like a seductive god of love and sex. His voice is low, dangerously soft. "Oh, Victor. This calls for a punishment." 

Strangely enough, Yuuri doesn't sound disappointed at all. 


	13. Cunnilingus ft. Edging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Edgeplay</strike> | <strike>Threesome</strike> | <strike>Role Reversal</strike> | Cunnilingus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so apparently edgeplay doesn't mean edging. I discovered that after reading about it on wikipedia. . . So welcome to some edging ft. very mild Cunnilingus, lmao.

The alpha throws the omega over his shoulder, climbing out of guest bed. He expertly navigates through the house, stalking onwards to the master bedroom. Upside down, Victor has the perfect view of Yuuri's back and if he tilts his head up, he gets to watch Yuuri's round, irresistible ass. If he looks up even more, he gets to closely examine those firm, bare thighs. 

His head is quite tilted, simply drinking in that nice, firm ass. Then his world flips once again as Yuuri sets him down on the California king-sized bed, quite carefully and gently as usual. The plush comforters and pillows spun in gold and white cotton thread welcome the omega into their comforts. He adjusts, his body falling relax. His limbs spread out, stretching. 

The alpha cocks his head, smiling wickedly down at the omega. "Now, Victor, I believe I should take what I want. After all, you have made a pathetic attempt at gratitude." 

The omega whines, low pitched. Slick seeps from his cunt, glistening his entrance. 

Much softer, Yuuri adds, "You remember your safe word, Victor?" 

He nods. "Eros." 

Yuuri purrs, approval etched in his expression. "Good. If this ever gets too hard or rough, use it at any time, Victor. I will stop only for that word, but I will ask how you are doing if it looks like it's getting too much. You may speak then." 

Warmth pools in the omega's stomach, the exact same feeling of being wrapped in a thick blanket on a cold winter night. He nods again, eagerness and excitement drawing in the fierce, spellbinding anticipation of wondering what Yuuri plans to do next. He loves being in Yuuri's presence, falling into the alpha's arms and bed and finding the best kind of stability possible. And once again, he wishes this will never end. 

"Be still and quiet," orders the alpha, moving around the bed. "Not a single movement and sound or else I'll have to start again." His warning tone heightens the omega's pleasure, sinking him into a state of light arousal. 

Then the alpha pulls away to saunter purposely into the walk-in closet. He comes back with a dark wooden box, about two feet long and one foot high. It’s not heavy. He plants it on the floor and tugs the lid open, the lid blocking the omega from spying the mysterious box's contents. He hums, moving objects around. Then he hums again, standing up to reveal a simple black feather, about four inch long. Maybe from a raven or a crow. 

"Stay still. Not a sound," Yuuri repeats. 

Then he starts. The tip of the feather skims at the omega's hip, caressing his side and following along the lines of Victor's body. It narrowly avoids the armpits, and Victor lets out a sharp gasp when it oh-so-softly teases the edge of his scent gland on his neck, where Yuuri always nips. 

The alpha stills. 

The feather withdraws, returning to the omega's hip. Yuuri tsks. "Not a good start, Victor. Remember this. Not a single sound or move." 

He meticulously follows the lines again, the feather tickling the planes of the omega's body. Victor resists a sound when it teases his scent gland. Then the tail brushes off his shoulder, reemerging to circle around the omega’s areola, never giving into Victor's pleasure, always merely tormenting the omega in a blissful punishment. The alpha’s cruel, merciless treatment never dips into pain, simply giving the omega waves and waves of arousal without ever letting him peak to greater heights. 

The feather circles one more time before crossing down in a straight line to the omega’s naval, flying over the belly button to glide around the omega’s stiffening cocklet, never touching it once. Yuuri parts the omega’s legs wider until the feather kisses his cunt’s lips once, then twice. Then the alpha sets the slick-covered feather down by the omega’s feet. 

Yuuri is nowhere done, however. He goes back to the box, leisurely taking his time to riffle through the box. Sounds of strange objects clatter against each other, the sound of plastic beads dropping against the wood. 

“Hmm,” mutters the alpha. “No, not that.” 

Victor resists responding. 

He remembers the alpha’s orders, after all. 

Victor resists moving around when he hears the rummaging sound of plastic and liquid. Then the alpha returns, setting something on the nightstand. Victor doesn’t dare turn to sneak a peek; Yuuri would have surely seen him and then proceeded to wreck the omega even further. 

“Have you ever used massage oil, Victor?” the alpha asks. 

“Yes,” hoarsely replies the omega. 

“Then don’t move,” says the alpha, intensely low and unyielding. He starts with Victor’s foot, hands rubbing at his soles and around his heels. Every sweep of motion is acute and precise and feel incredibly good, warm under the alpha’s touch. Victor basks under the alpha’s attention, resisting an urge to purr in happiness. 

He shakily breathes out. 

“You like this, don’t you?” whispers Yuuri, his oiled fingers expertly kneading the fleshy muscles of the omega’s heel. He continues, “Your feet needs more care, Victor. The arches on your feet need more support.” His voice is soft, ardent in his words. 

Victor blinks slowly. 

The alpha smiles. “Don’t worry, Victor. I’ll be here. I’ll help you find your support.” He moves onto the other foot, kneading it as well and loosening the taut muscles methodically with the same exact ritual. Then he moves upwards, his oiled hands slipping up Victor’s calf and rubbing it as he goes. His fingers dart up his leg, running over Victor’s thighs and kneading the muscles. The alpha wraps a hand around Victor’s cocklet, nearly triggering the omega’s hip to rise into the touch. 

Holding back a breath, Victor relaxes into Yuuri’s firm hold on his cocklet. The alpha strokes it, the oil and slick allowing the strokes to be seamless. Then he strokes again, again, and again. The cocklet stands tall, raging hard, when the alpha’s hand slips away and moves onto the omega’s stomach. He cups it, as if holding an imaginary baby. 

“I would love to see a pup in here,” he whispers ardently. Bending down, he presses a soft kiss right over the omega’s belly button and withdraws. His hands rub his belly as low, seductive words passionately spill out of his mouth. “It’ll stretch you, Victor. It’ll grow in you. You won’t be so alone, Victor. You have the pup and me. And after the first pup,” he pauses, his fingers gliding up again to right below both of his nipples, “I’ll put another one in you, Victor.” 

Victor holds back a gasp when Yuuri touch and teases with his nipples. He doesn’t hurt his nipples, no. He plays with each one, rubbing and giving tiny kitten licks around the nipple. His hot tongue laps at Victor’s nipple, and then he does the other. Victor doesn’t whimper, though he wishes to protest, when Yuuri pulls away to return to the box. 

He comes back with an open bottle of champagne. With a small smirk playing on his lips, Yuuri drips a few alcoholic drops onto the omega’s chest. He quickly licks it away, not letting the liquid ruin the sheets. He does this a few more times, each cool drop of liquid a new sensation, heated over by Yuuri’s dedicated mouth. 

Intensely staring straight at the omega, Yuuri takes a gulp straight from the bottle and then wraps his lips around Victor’s achingly hard cocklet.

Victor nearly chokes, almost making a peep of a sound. It’s obscene the way Yuuri is sucking away at his cocklet, lazily and loudly while his tongue dances around the cocklet’s head while Yuuri’s hand dips a finger into Victor’s bereft cunt. He almost rolls over to cant his hips and present his dripping, glistening hole to beg for Yuuri to breed him up so good he won’t forget the outline of Yuuri’s dick. 

The alpha takes another gulp, this time diving down to eat the slick from the omega’s cunt. He sucks at the puffy lips, lavishing attention so close to Victor’s core. 

Victor doesn’t beg. Though he’s so terribly close to begging. 

Yuuri licks his lips, catching the champagne droplets with his tongue. Utterly satisfied, he tells the omega, “Absolutely delicious, Victor, the way you taste. I knew you’ll taste good with a  _ Blanc de noirs.”  _ The French rolls off his tongue, seductively wrapping around Victor. 

The omega watches Yuuri set aside the champagne bottle. He picks up an object from the nightstand, deliberately pushing what sounds to be a button switch. Vibrations, low yet so loud in the near silence of the master bedroom, buzz in the air. The alpha comes back to the bedside, a look of consideration etched onto his face. With a mere twist of his wrist, he plants the hot pink rabbit vibrator straight on Victor’s cunt, not pushing in. He leans over Victor’s legs, taking the other hand to spread the omega’s pussy lips. He holds it vibrating on the edge, moving in a circle, yet not reaching deep or hard enough inside of the omega. Victor bites back a hard moan. After so long of avoiding the most sensitive points in the omega’s body, the vibrations of the rabbit vibrator feels like a dream. 

When Victor feels himself drawing closer, he resists pushing against the vibrator, his cunt so eager for deeper, harder stimulation. His stomach drops when Yuuri tuts, attuned to Victor’s every expression and signs of an impending orgasm. The vibrator switches off. The rabbit vibrator glistens with wetness when Yuuri pulls it away, slick having stained the tip. The alpha sets it right besides the feather. 

Then Yuuri climbs upon the bed, kneeling between Victor’s spread legs.

The omega’s heart skips a beat. His greedy eyes drink in every inch of the alpha’s beautiful dick, its bulbous head pointing straight at the omega. His throat dries, and he wishes that Yuuri would hurry up and stuff that cock so deep into his cunt and fuck him through the rest of the weekdays to the lazier weekend. The cock nears, closer and closer. He can’t wait to have in him. 

However, Yuuri doesn’t do anything predictable. He pauses in front of Victor and says, “Oh, Victor. Have you ever heard this saying?” He licks his lips, a smirk playing. “Good things come to those who wait, Victor. Can you repeat that?”

“Good things come to those who wait,” he repeats dutifully. He immediately connects the dots. Yuuri fully plans to torture the omega, wrecking every piece of Victor into a thousand pieces and fully planning to be there when Victor collapses. Giving Victor pleasure after pleasure, ready to dive in after when Victor finally drowns. 

The alpha smiles. “Good. Let’s see how well you understand that concept,” he purrs, a hand wrapping around his cock. He strokes himself fast, every move of his masturbation witnessed reverently by the unmoving omega. His parted mouth breathes, and Yuuri, this alpha, never takes his eyes off of Victor. Hot seed splatters all over the omega, obscenely landing in pearly drops over the omega’s cocklet, stomach, and pecs. Yuuri sighs in release, his eyes sparkling deviously at the omega. 

“Can you tell me that again?” he asks. 

“Good things come to those who wait.” 

Yuuri smiles widen. He bends over the omega’s cocklet, carefully lapping away the streams of come resting on Victor’s cocklet. His hand suddenly wraps itself around the cocklet’s base, and then his mouth fiercely sucks down the cocklet, drawing a moan from Victor's lips. 

The alpha stills, dangerously. 

He pulls away, and Victor can't help but whine at the alpha. Yuuri raises two fingers to his lips. "Oh, Victor. The rules were don't move, don't make a sound." 

Victor's heart drops. 

Then the alpha picks up the slick-dipped feather, dark and jet black like the sky. He starts again at the omega's hip, the exact same spot. The feather doesn't feel the same, the tip dried up. The feather carelessly runs through the alpha's pearly white come, still wet and warm on the omega's bare, flushed skin. The feather tauntingly retraces its own path, following the lines of the omega's body. It visits his scent gland and then the naval and ends at the omega's cunt, merely teasing and never ceding anything more than that. 

Yuuri takes his time to thoroughly rub massage oil all over his hands, all under the cyan eyes of the omega. He starts off at the omega's feet, exploring up his leg and then strokes his cocklet. He follows the shape of the omega's stomach, not saying a word but deeply reminding Victor of a pup, their pup, their potential pup. He aches so desperately for something to fill him, yet he does not move. 

Good things come to those who wait. 

Yuuri lavishes his attention upon Victor's nipples, pinching hard enough to arouse but never hurt. He coaxes each out to stand hard, proudly engorged with blood, the very color of rose pink. Little kitten licks drains more blood from Victor's brain, the blood rushing to his nether regions. 

Then the champagne bottle spills onto Victor's stomach. Yuuri quickly laps the droplets away, cleanly removing the very trace of champagne. He downs a gulp and wraps his hot mouth around the omega's cocklet, drinking down a filthy combination of fancy French champagne and Victor's slick. He enacts the same treatment for the omega’s cunt, his tongue slowly teasing away at the omega’s entrance. 

Victor preserves, desperately keeping still. 

Good things come to those who wait. 

The rabbit vibrator arrives, and the omega willfully resists moving to ride the heady vibrations. He wants to. He wants to move so badly. But Yuuri gives him the briefest and sweetest of smiles, and that very smile is enough for Victor to gather determination to hold firm and still and quiet as Yuuri moves on to stroke himself on display for the omega and obscenely spill his seed all over the omega's cocklet and torso. By now, the previous amount of come has dried and Victor nearly arch under the warmth of the come dripping all over his skin. 

A glint in Yuuri's eyes merely hint of greater cruelties behind the alpha's mask of a devoted, gift bearing alpha. Victor is beginning to see how thoroughly deviant and depraved his taste run. 

He would be lying if he said he didn't like it. 

He loves it. He loves being devastated and wrecked by the force, the waves, and the storm that is one Yuuri Katsuki. He will wear every mark Yuuri bestows with pride, the alpha's possessiveness comforting. He belongs wholeheartedly to this alpha. Forevermore, Yuuri's omega. Even if the alpha doesn’t know it. 

When Yuuri sucks away at his cocklet, the omega is quite prepared for the sudden pressure of the alpha's mouth. He resists a moan and then a smile of his own when he passes through the test with flying colors. 

"Very good," praises the alpha. He gathers the omega in his arms and onto his lap. "You may move now and make whatever noise you wish." 

Victor could weep in joy, more happy and tearful than even the French citizens after the liberation of their own country. Yuuri's cock slides in through the omega's slicked channel, each inch sinking deep. He's been so wet, so willing, so open for this alpha. 

The alpha pulls back, returning to thrust deeper into the omega’s cunt. The sound of skin slapping and slick squelching sounds so filthy to the omega’s ears, and then there's Yuuri's whispering words, so encouraging to let Victor melt and fall, captured so nicely by the alpha's arms and warm hold. He's so close to his release, pulled back only because of Yuuri's sudden tight grip around his cocklet's base. 

He's begging when he feels the knot of Yuuri's cock growing at his entrance; the fullness he has hungered for so long seems within reach. He cries when the knot is shoved in, copious amounts of the alpha’s hot seed pouring deep into the omega's cunt. The couple collapses onto the bed, both breathing quickly. 

Victor whimpers, still on the edge of his release, so full yet so close. The alpha holds him back at the top of the metaphorical cliff, his cocklet near bursting with slick. "Yuuri," he babbles. "Please, please. Please let me come." 

"Now, Victor," Yuuri whispers, his English spilling from his mouth in affected accented Japanese notes. His eyes intensify upon watching the squirming omega he holds at mercy. "Can you tell me what you learned today?" He returns to Victor's neck, nipping fiercely around the omega's scent gland. 

The omega shudders under the alpha's ministrations. Stuffed full of streaming, increasing amount of seed with a knot tied in his channel, he cries out, "Good things come. . ." He pants, tears forming in his eyes as Yuuri thrusts his knot even further in and releases the omega's cocklet. "To those. . ." He gasps, his vision whiting out as the knot suddenly pushes hard against his prostate. Slick spurts from the cocklet, shamelessly clear over the alpha's abs. His last words are weak as he struggles to fulfill the alpha's question. He desperately breathes out, "Who wait!" 

The alpha mouths directly on Victor's scent gland, exactly where a mating bite belongs. Devastating, unadulterated praise spill out of the alpha. "Very good, Victor." 


	14. Exhibitionism ft. Gagging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Spit-Roasting</strike> | <strike>Boot Worship</strike> | Exhibitionism/Voyeurism | <strike>Pegging</strike>

He's surprised he actually got the alpha to agree to attend the latest hot party in Beverly Hills. It's located a few miles away at a fancy house owned by a rock star Victor never remembers the name of. Nevertheless, he still gets an invitation from him, because apparently, he helped Isabella Yang find him. He's not sure about that. All he ever did was invite Isabella, who is an aspiring fashion designer, to a party he hosted three years ago. He has heard she is engaged to a rather egotistical alpha, but Victor has never met him and could not be sure if he's truly as self-centered as everyone claims him to be. 

The omega nearly laugh when Yuuri Katsuki, dressed in a powerfully intimidating suit, walks by the gaggle of paparazzi without raising any of their interests. Most of the attendees are dressed in the latest fashionable party clothes. Yuuri Katsuki looks like a timeless lawyer, ready to hash it out and win big in court in front of Supreme Court Justices. 

Victor looks this way and that, showing off his ridiculously fancy dress with wide sleeves and an even wider dress. What the paparazzi flashing their cameras at him, he looks here and there, allowing them to take good angles of his profile. His pearl necklace glows underneath the light. 

Then he's free to wander in, away from the clamoring reporters and in the relative safety of the rock star's mansion. 

It's a rather alcoholic party, clear plastic cups lined up on the table. He has heard once the drummer got into a fistfight with an invited alpha, who proceeded to throw him at the champagne glass tower. He had to get like a hundred stitches from all the broken glass. The party switched over to using plastic since then. He also heard the drummer could finally sit down properly three months ago. 

“Hey,” he breathes, spying the alpha clearly out of place around the half-naked, shirtless men and drunk, high groupies. “You okay here, Yuuri?”

The alpha nods. He glances around and says something inaudible. 

The music cranks up high, and someone with a microphone jumps onto the tables. He screams straight into the mic. "It's JJ style! Live from the amazing Beverly Hills comes this impromptu performance! I present to you, me! Hey, Otabek, hit it!” He dramatically pops a finger at himself, and then rearranges his hands, clearly struggling with a microphone in his hand. 

Victor pushes his alpha to the nearest. As loudly as possible, he shouts, “It’s going to get really loud in there! The groupies scream louder than him! I couldn’t hear out of my ears for days the last time I was here. I don’t know how anyone can stand this.” 

He’s not sure Yuuri picked any of that up. 

When they close the door behind them, Victor could still hear the rock star singing. And the groupies are even louder than him, despite the impressive collection of speaker boxes set at high volume. 

The rock star bellows, "Now I rule the world—”

“Do, re, mi,” chants Victor, trying his damn best to shake out that obnoxious song that has been the rock star's theme song for the last two years. It ruins his ability to compose anything for a week, and he can no longer turn on most of the radio channels without hearing that song. “Fa, so, la, ti, do!” He repeats the scales again. 

“Victor?” Yuuri tilts his head, reminiscent of a confused Makkachin. “Is something going on?”

“Need to get away from there.” He climbs the stairs, heading to the second floor and stops humming when the annoying beats become loud but indistinguishable thumps of vibrations and sounds. He shakes his head, his long silver hair shaking out behind him. “I can’t stand that song.” 

“The song? ‘Theme of King JJ’ is a song you hate?” questions Yuuri. They move through a series of more private hallways. There’s still an odd person or group of people milling around here or there, and some of them glance curiously at Victor, but thankfully, they don’t come up to him to say hi. 

“I can’t hear it without it getting stuck in my head,” admits Victor. “Then I find myself composing and writing lyrics, and every single song is amplified by that song and I don’t feel genuine to myself,” he helplessly explains, trying to put that wrongness feeling in words. 

"Like an ear worm that is influencing your thinking," concludes Yuuri. 

"Exactly!" The omega smiles. 

The alpha returns the smile and pulls a random door open. They find themselves in a parody of a throne room. Victorian era furniture include some sofas and tables. The walls have been painted in royal purple with golden highlights. Golden crown-shaped highlights, in fact. There's a fancy red rug leading someplace from the doorway. Victor blinks, his eyes finally landing on the toilet made of literal gold. 

Hands covering his eyes, Yuuri bursts into laughter. "King JJ," he snorts, his cheeks flushing, "has an actual throne room as a bathroom." 

Victor's lips quirk. It is somewhat funny. 

Yuuri attempts to contain himself. He coughs, trying to hide his mirth. "I'm so sorry. I try not to laugh at things like this, but this one is too much on the nose." 

Once Yuuri's laughter dies away and the alpha has composed of himself again, the omega breaks the silence. "I'm sorry." 

"Why?" 

"I thought this would be more interesting. More than just avoiding the host's loud singing, his music, the groupies, random people I don't know. More than this bathroom," explains Victor, looking down at the dark purple floor. His sparkling silver sandals wink at him. "I don't even know what I'm doing here or why I invited you here. It's just a waste of time and waste of gas milage." 

Yuuri hums, unconvinced. "I wouldn't say it's a complete waste of time." He stalks closer to the omega, scenting him possessively. "After all, I'm with you. Alone. In a crowded house." 

The omega freezes, a deer in the headlights. 

"Who knows what may happen," wonders Yuuri, drawing the omega in for a deep, agonizingly wonderful kiss. His hands, so warm and confident, presses on Victor’s hip, and he scents the omega, a purr emitting from his throat. 

Victor blinks, pulling away. Finding the conviction within him again, he coyly says, "Yes, Yuuri, who knows what may happen." 

Yuuri glances over at the only door, the sole barrier between them and the outside world. From the very pheromones Victor is pumping out, Yuuri knows  _ precisely  _ of his intentions. "We should lock the door." 

"Tokyo." 

"Huh?"

Resolve settles in the omega's gut. His tongue dries as he recants Yuuri's words in Japan. "You told me you would let them see. Let them all know I'm yours." Victor quickly spins the alpha around until he's corner into the wall. 

The alpha, glasses askew, runs his hands through his gelled dark hair. "Victor," he gasps. He sighs, deep and soft. He  _ melts  _ into the omega’s touch, and Victor, so heady over his affect on this alpha, kneels before him, glancing up with doe eyes as he slowly reaches for Yuuri’s dark brown belt. He's thankful for the heavy material of his dress, providing good padding for his knees. 

The omega pulls down Yuuri’s pants, allowing the alpha to spring free from its enclosure. Yuuri’s cock is engorged, precum dripping from its weeping slit. The omega dips a finger and takes it to his lips. The taste of salt spread across his tongue, and Victor moves his face closer to Yuuri, uncaring of his fancy dress that’s currently being wrinkled. Anyone could tell from his clothes what Victor has been up to; the press will have a field day. 

Victor smiles, nuzzling Yuuri’s cock. His hand wraps as much as he could at the alpha’s base. He doesn’t mind everyone knowing. He doesn’t mind the whole world seeing how hard and how bad he has it for this alpha. Yuuri is his, and he is Yuuri’s, at least for just this moment. His pale pink tongue softy licks around the fleshy base, the very place where a knot would form if Yuuri’s aroused enough. Victor wants it so bad. He wants it so deep in him, just carving a new home out of his cunt. 

He moans, his hard cocklet rubbing against Yuuri's shoe through the dress. He wishes he's naked, so he could feel skin pressing against Yuuri's black leather oxfords. 

He slips the bulbous head into his mouth, sucking away as if fitting an oversized lollipop inside his mouth. His eyes firmly watch Yuuri as the alpha tears into his hair, desperately trying not to touch the omega, as if holding himself back. 

Victor releases the alpha’s cock with a pop of his lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Huh?” 

“Hold onto my hair,” whispers the omega. Then he goes back to work, slowly testing the waters and playing around Yuuri’s cock. He licks the underside of the cock, following along the vein. That draws a sharp gasp from Yuuri. Slick drips down from the omega’s entrance, his body wanting Yuuri so badly, but Victor resists. He wants to appreciate the alpha, and he wants a different sort of mark on him. 

Yuuri’s hands gently wrap around the back of Victor’s head, fingers gently intertwined through the omega’s hair. 

He wants  _ everyone  _ to _ smell Yuuri on him.  _ There will be not a single person who doesn’t notice the dominating scent of alpha come lingering around the omega. No one will fail to make the right conclusion about Victor. 

He tries to slowly cram the cock down his throat, his light blue eyes tearing up when the head meets his throat, triggering his gag reflex. It feels awful, almost as if his own throat is trying to kill him. Tears fills his eyes. He gags, saliva glistening on the cock when he quickly pulls himself away. He coughs once and twice, pushing away the alpha’s reassuring hands. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says, waving away Yuuri’s quiet concern. His cheeks redden, a little embarrassed at his own experience or rather, the sheer lack of it. “I. . . I never tried that hard before.”

Yuuri’s eyes soften, his finger wiping a single tear away from Victor’s eyes. “It’s okay, Victor. If you want to try again, we could try at home. You could spend as much time as you want to practice. I promise.”

Victor nods, his heart warming. Once he gathers himself, he tries again, this time never pushing more than his well-defined limit. He takes Yuuri’s cock into his mouth, the cock's head never going anywhere near the back of his throat. Saliva is dripping down his chin, turning him into such a mess. His hands reach up to Yuuri’s base and stroke whatever he can’t fit in. Yuuri’s hands struggle between simply holding his hair and reacting when Victor gives a particularly hard suck. 

"I'm close," gasps the alpha, his hips thrusting a little, desperate for more friction. 

Victor doesn't stop at all, jumping against Yuuri's shoe and clinging even tighter to the alpha. He's aching, his channel bereft and hungry for something to sate its greediness. But taking Yuuri in like this in some random rock star's fancy bathroom is a different kind of fulfillment. He purrs, humming around the alpha's cock as it finally spurts out seed. 

The door suddenly flies open. 

Reflex demands Victor to pull away, the cock slipping out of his mouth. He turns his head slightly to look at the intruder, and white pearly come streams from Yuuri's cock, freely painting the omega's face and hair. The omega's right eye closes, the hot seed dripping over his eyelid. He's aware he looks like a hungry slut for come. It's partially the truth. He's an actual ravenous slut for Yuuri's come. 

Recognizing the intruder with only one eye, Victor casually calls out, "Oh, hey, Chris." Come is still flying from Yuuri's dick, the alpha's face having turned into a furious shade of red. 

His manager is taken aback, but then he winks at the alpha. He gives a long, critical examination of the still-ejaculating cock. With approval, he tells the omega, "An excellent dick you have at hand, Victor. I'll leave you two be. Surprised to see you here, Yuuri." Then Chris disappears, locking the door behind him. 

Still as red as a tomato, Yuuri pants out, "Next time, we are going to a club with nondisclosure agreements. Hopefully, we'll not run into anyone we know that closely." 

"You know who that is?" 

Yuuri flushes, removing his hands from the omega's hair and pulling up his pants. "I was taking advanced pole dancing classes to learn something new, and he was there." 

"He's my manager," reveals Victor. 

"Next time, we're going to a club," declares the alpha, shuddering. 

They straighten each other up, attempting to make themselves presentable for the cameras. Yuuri holds the omega's chin still, wiping away the come on Victor's face with a wet handkerchief. 

The omega, replaying his actions and his flippant reaction to Chris walking in on them, blushes. Some alphas don't like omegas taking charge in bed, and Yuuri, lovely Yuuri, has always taken charge and been in charge even when Victor was rubbing chocolate onto his dick. He glances away. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me." 

Yuuri's fingers gently brush the tip of the omega's chin, drawing Victor's eyes back to the alpha. 

"No, I liked it," Yuuri whispers, his brown eyes intensely dark and reverent upon staring at the omega. "Don't you dare let anyone stop you from being yourself, Victor." 


	15. Roleplay ft. Praise Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roleplay | <strike>Wedgies</strike> | <strike>Shotgunning</strike> | <strike>Macro/Micro</strike>

It's in the middle of May when they finally get a chance to meet up again. Yuuri has been doing business, jumping from country to country, continent to continent. Victor’s world tour ended at the end of April, and he is now doing random jobs his agent tells him to do. This time they're in Seattle, Washington, and the alpha sounded so pleased over the phone to discover Victor's presence on this corner of the world. Victor had a private performance for a state of a company address earlier and is free to wander the areas of Seattle until he has to fly back to Los Angeles to argue about his contract with Sony executives. He doesn't end up doing much exploring when a bellboy brings up a familiar yellow envelope to his hotel suite. After passing the bellboy a bill as a tip, he eagerly tears away a part of the envelope, his heart pounding away in pure anticipation. 

He pulls out something incredibly soft and black. His hands shake in pure shock, slick beginning to drip at the sight of the midnight-colored collar. Collars are incredibly important in a relationship between an alpha and their mate, so rich in history. They fell out of favor around the Victorian times when the British Queen herself refused to wear one, thus setting off a new tradition. Few alphas still use collars for their mates while a large percentage has switched over to simpler, cheaper, subdued rings. As someone who could flip so far between downright deviant to incredibly proper, Yuuri doesn't immediately strike Victor as someone who would use collars as a permanent mark, but he does strike Victor as someone who would use them in a BDSM context. 

A perfumed card simply says in handwritten words, _ Be my pet? _

His heart skips a beat at those words. His eyes read it once. Then again and again, a thumb following the distinctive curves in Yuuri’s handwriting. He already knows the answer. Victor would love to be. Here, now, forever, always. Pet or no pet play. Yuuri just only has to say the word, and Victor will come running to him. 

The collar fits perfectly, loose enough for a comfortable gap around his neck. There's a metal hoop for a possible leash, and knowing that there isn't one in the bag, Victor can easily anticipates Yuuri bringing it later. 

He spends the next ten minutes on the bed, googling everything about pet play. Having read his fill of anecdotes and advice, he rolls over to lie on his back. Staring up at the pale ceiling, he wonders what kind of master would Yuuri be. Would he ask Victor to pretend to be a hardcore puppy or would it be a pet play in the loosest definition possible? Would he be a cruel one or would he simply straight up ignore Victor? Yuuri has paid devout attention to him so far, but bringing pet play is a new area Victor has never ventured into. 

Anxiety sinks into him, and he rolls around tirelessly, his silver hair pooling in a puddle around his head as he fiercely watches the door of his hotel bedroom, just waiting for the alpha to come in. He's completely naked, having decided that absolutely none of his clothes could truly be worn fashionably with the collar. In fact, Victor has eventually decided it would be best to wear nothing but the collar. 

He sighs, breathing in and out. 

Then a keycard is inserted into the front door, and the pheromones of his alpha wafts in, the air of the hotel suite well circulated. Yuuri closes it gently, and he takes a moment to slip off his shoes as per usual. Then carrying a box into the room, he pauses at the sight of the naked omega in bed. 

"Hello, Victor."

The omega purrs in an answer, baring his neck as much as possible. 

"Victor, I forgot to apologize for ripping your clothes again," says Yuuri, perching by the bed. He presents the large box to Victor and then places it onto the side table. "I bought the entire summer collection that came out last week. Same brand you always wear. I hope you'll like them?" 

The omega nods, pleasure flowing through his veins. It's the same Yuuri, and they are still on the same page, with or without the collar on Victor's neck. 

"Good." Yuuri tells him, "I also remembered that I have not bought you a grand piano yet." 

"You don't have to." 

The alpha's dark eyes flash. "Oh, Victor. You have no idea how much I have to. It's one of the many selfish gifts I have for you. You have no idea how selfish I am, Victor." 

The omega's mouth dries. 

Yuuri pulls out a fake fox tail of faux white-silver glued to a butt plug from his pocket. Holding it in front of the omega, he casually says, "Is this not selfish at all?" 

Wordlessly, the omega rolls over onto his stomach and knees and wiggles his backside, using his hands to grab his ass cheeks and spreading them apart so the alpha could savor an unobstructed display of his hole. The hole winks open, and the omega feels the beginning of warm slick crawling down his inner thighs. 

"Good omega," Yuuri purrs. He leans closer to the omega and collects some slick to rub onto the plug. A warm hand smoothly runs over the omega's back, and then Yuuri is slowly pushing in the plug. The flared base of the plug presses against the omega's rarely used hole. 

Victor moans, the strange but surprisingly pleasant fullness in his ass teasing him. The furry tail settles against his entrance, drawing slick from his cunt. He clenches around the plug, gasping. 

"Good," praises the alpha. "You look so beautiful, Victor." He walks around the bed, critically analyzing the omega from every angle. "You remember our safe word?" His voice drops, every word flowing over the omega like honey. 

"Eros," whispers the omega. 

"Very good. Do you mind if I call you pet?" asks Yuuri, his hands shoved into his pockets. 

"No," answers Victor, his throat terribly dry. He doesn't know why he thought the collar felt loose around his throat earlier. With all the anticipation killing him, it now feels ridiculously tight, tying the omega to Yuuri. 

"Good. How about boy, beautiful?" 

Victor's mouth is suddenly so thirsty. "Yes, please." 

"Very good," whispers the alpha. He pivots, making another half-circle around the omega. He casually inquires, "Has that pretty little cocklet ever penetrated anything?" 

At the mere mention, Victor's cocklet twitches. "No. Never." When he was younger, he had to use stimulation of his cunt paired with sloppy strokes of his cocklet to achieve release. He holds no interest to beta or omega women, and all the men were interested in fucking him, which he didn't really mind. He always loves having his hole stuffed with a good, large cock. 

"Then we'll be switching it up today," declares Yuuri, patting the omega's rump twice. "You'll only be coming inside me with the help of this." Yuuri taps the fox tail, causing it to sway. 

Victor moans at the soft, pleasurable sensations. 

"Sit on your legs, pet," orders the alpha. He watches the omega do just that, folding his legs for his butt to rest on his feet with the silver tail curled around his ass. He pulls out a circular object and shakes it out, revealing a rather short black leash of about three feet long. At the very end of the leash is a silver keychain clip, perfect for the silver hoop at Victor's throat. He connects them together and tugs gently, Victor’s neck pulled towards the alpha. 

A gasp draws itself out of the omega’s mouth. 

“Good pet,” coos the alpha. “Now be still. I want to see if there’s any problems.” 

Victor freezes, limbs not moving but still breathing in trepidation as the alpha wraps the leash twice around his hand. His breath catches as Yuuri looks this way and that, examining the general condition of the omega’s body. A finger presses against the omega’s arm, and Yuuri hums. 

“Next time, I’m cooking for you. Do they not have any good food for you when you go on tours?” asks Yuuri, tsking. “Shame on all of them. A dancer’s body needs nutrients. Protein, not just salads and a rabbit diet.” Yuuri moves to stand in front of Victor, the leash following the alpha. He tugs the leash downwards and orders, “On your fours, pet.” 

The omega shivers, but he moves onto his knees and elbows. Involuntarily, his hips cant to fully present his wet and sopping hole in the air even though the alpha can’t clearly see it from his angle, not mentioning the fox tail blocking the view. But he’s so desperate for Yuuri to fill him up with all the seed he could possibly give, wanting something in his gluttonous cunt. He wants a pup in him so badly, both Victor’s and Yuuri’s, but he does not dare mention any of this to the alpha. 

Yuuri moves around to stand behind the omega, inspecting every heated inch of Victor's skin. The leash pulls against Victor's neck, stealing a gasp from the omega's lips. The alpha can’t resist a smile, and hand parts away the faux tail and a finger snakes to prod close to the omega’s exposed entrance, leaking away clear slick. His whisper is terribly loud to the omega’s ears. “I think I do see a major problem here.” 

“Please,” fleetingly begs the omega. “Please, alpha.” 

The alpha tsks, clicking his tongue. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again, my lovely pet. You won’t be coming from there, but I promise you that you will get anything you want tomorrow.” HIs promise sends shivers down Victor’s spines, pooling arousal into his stomach. 

The omega purrs.

“Are you happy?” asks the alpha, low and husky. 

“Yes,” moans the omega. 

“I'm pleased to hear that,” purrs the alpha. A horrible glint sparks up the alpha’s dark eyes, and he slyly drawls to the omega. “But pets don’t use words, my dear omega. You must show me your happiness.” 

It takes a long time for Victor to work out the meaning behind Yuuri’s words. His cheeks flush, and he cants his hip, shaking his butt in the air and forcing the silver fox tail to move side to side in a parody of a happy wag. Embarrassment spikes through his stomach, and his mouth parts, a moan drawn out. Slick gushes from his entrance, and the omega’s pheromones intensify, practically begging the alpha to _ take _ him, to _ claim _ him, to _ breed _ him, to _ mate _ him. Just do _ anything _ to _ him, _ as long as Yuuri will never let him go. 

He hears the sound of a zipper being unzipped. Ten seconds later, and the alpha briskly walks to stand in front of the omega, the thin black leash taut between them. 

“You're doing so well. The best pet ever," praises the alpha, the words falling to the omega's ears like music. After a long moment, Yuuri breaks the silence. "Come here,” orders the alpha, pulling the omega to the corner of the bed. The leash is even more taut, the force on Victor’s neck great and heady. 

Victor pushes up, beginning to shuffle forward on his knees. 

“No, pet.” His words are deceptively soft. 

Victor stops. 

“Crawl.” 

Slick drips from the omega's channel, steadily making its way down his thigh. Victor falls forward, landing on his hands. Following the leash, Victor crawls forward to where the alpha has patted on the pillow. He stays still on the area, unsure of whether to kneel or to present. 

The alpha sets down the leash on the bed and firmly states, "Stay, pet." 

Then Yuuri pops open a bottle of something and _ sighs, _the very sound sending shivers down the omega's spine. There's a distinctive sound of squelching. 

Then Yuuri moves around the bed, climbing onto the other side. His glasses are off, and he's completely naked, every pale inch of skin so perfect and delicious to the omega. He picks up the end of the leash, resting onto his stomach. "Up, boy," he says, tugging the leash towards it himself. 

Victor, following the shortening leash, crawls over to the alpha. Unsure of himself, he places a palm at Yuuri's hip and enchantedly watch the alpha rest on his forearm and spreads his legs apart, his knees bent. His firm butt, something Victor absolutely loves about this alpha, is fully on display. The omega is furiously trying to brand this moment into his memories. 

"My beautiful pet," purrs Yuuri, the praise dripping from the alpha's lips. His face is red, the blush so lovely on his cheeks. "Mount me." 

Victor fumbles with his cocklet, trying to line it up to Yuuri's well-lubed entrance like he has seen Yuuri done to his cunt so many times before. Then he pushes in, and his instincts kick in, rutting into Yuuri's clenching hole. He whimpers about his own hole, so empty and dripping. Yuuri's cock hangs so hard, shamelessly unused. He wants something in him, too. 

"Fuck me, pet," orders Yuuri, the leash shortening again to just a feet long. 

Victor grabs Yuuri's hips firmly, desperately chasing his release from a different path. He feels it build up, yes, rising and rising above. He sharply gasps when Yuuri pulls the leash even harder than before, the slap of skin to skin so loud to his ears. Slick is leaking all over the sheets, and Victor pants, closing in.

"Keep going," pants Yuuri, his free arm somehow twisting to intertwine with Victor's hair. 

Victor whines, the friction delicious and mind boggling. His nose presses against the alpha's scent gland, breathing in seductive pheromones. He pounds the alpha even harder, exercising rarely used muscles. He's going to be sore afterwards. 

"That's a good boy," praises the alpha, his voice strained. Then he's coming, the mess of pearly white seed ruining the pale sheets below him. His hand pulls away from Victor's loose hair to reach the omega's ass, cupping the firm flesh to force the omega to push the cocklet in as deep as possible. He flicks at the tail while yanking hard at the leash, sending Victor's vision black when the omega comes, releasing slick into the alpha's tight channel. 

He falls asleep almost immediately, not protesting when Yuuri pulls the omega's cocklet out of himself to clean up. 

A little while later, Victor wakes up in the dead of the night, his skin so warm and clean. The omega pulls himself out of the alpha’s bare arms and watches the sleeping alpha roll around in search of Victor, so soft and vulnerable in the shadows. He tiptoes over to the closet, greedy hands snatching away all the neatly-stowed pillows and white sheets from the shelves. 

Then he climbs back onto the bed with his treasures, his eyes and fingers entranced. He’s a little disappointed that none of the sheets smell like Yuuri, all of the sheets smelling sterile but clean. But he knows it won’t take too long to fix that problem, especially with the alpha so close at hand. As he arranges the sheets and pillows just so around the both of them, he finds it difficult to actually think about the way he wants his nest to appear. He lets his mind go blank, his primal instincts taking over. Once satisfied with the way everything looks, he pulls the sheet over Yuuri and buries himself underneath the layers, comforted by the blankets and his alpha. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by https://twitter.com/sidesidething on collared!Vitya.


	16. Olfactophilia ft. Heat Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Stuck in a Wall</strike> | <strike>Seduction</strike> | Olfactophilia | <strike>Rimming/Analingus</strike>

When the omega wakes up, his skin is on fire and he's arching achingly under the unbearably hot, sweaty blankets. He gasps, whimpering and rolling for the alpha's touch. He's so desperate for something to fill him, to claim him, to tie him down, and to stop him from being a mateless omega. He wants an alpha. His mouth parts when he finds the alpha standing just outside of the omega's nest. There he is. His alpha. 

"Victor, I'm here," reassures the alpha, dressed in a collared shirt with dark slacks and no socks. "Victor, I can smell it. It's your oncoming heat." 

Victor whines. Enough slick has poured out from his entrance to make quite a sticky mess around his thighs and on his sheets. Heat? The words suddenly register. "I can't be in pre-heat. I took my pills. . ." Victor's brain goes blank, unable to remember eating a blue pill. 

"It's morning. Sixteenth of May." 

Yesterday was the 15th, but Victor can't figure out if it was yesterday morning he swallowed down his daily suppressments or the day before yesterday. His memories has gone shit on him, because he has absolutely no recollection of swallowing anything within the last two days. He does remember kissing Makkachin goodbye the morning of the 14th at LAX while Yuri Plisetsky sighed petulantly and screamed at him to get a move on. 

"Victor, when was the last time you had your heat?" asks the alpha, all concern and tender sweetness. Familiar and steady. 

"Umm," hums the omega, thinking back. "Maybe a year ago? In the summer." He sadly remembers a shitty heat partner who was all repetitiveness and had no clue about spice. Zero attraction between them, just the terrible weight of an oncoming heat hanging over their heads. 

Yuuri nods, accepting this information. "I have canceled all my appointments for today and tomorrow. I have turned off my phone and told my assistant not to pass any phone calls to me, because I noticed that you built the nest around me last night," informs Yuuri, surprisingly as prepared as a fire truck approaching a burning building. 

A blush reddens on Victor's cheeks. 

"It's a beautiful nest. I love it," declares Yuuri, his eyes flicking over the nest. He pauses, thoughtfully. "Do you want to spend your heat with me?" 

The omega eagerly nods. 

"Do you think you can wait and eat something? Or do you want me to—" Yuuri gasps in surprise as the omega suddenly grabs his hand and pulls him onto the bed. "Okay, fuck first then,” Yuuri quickly concludes. 

Throwing the covers off and planting the alpha's hand on his naked ass and showing the alpha his waiting hole, Victor purrs in agreement. "Yes, please." Slick drops freely from his cunt, so empty and hungry for the alpha's cock. 

"Let me into your nest?" purrs the alpha. 

"Always," confesses Victor, the single word so breathless and thoughtless but also so terribly honest, leaving his heart bare to the alpha if he dares to look inside. Pre-heat has removed so much of Victor's self-control, and as he approaches an actual heat, he's not going to be able to resist Yuuri at all. In fact, he might actually chase the alpha to distant ends of the world, because this is the only alpha that is perfect for Victor. 

He still doesn't admit any of this to Yuuri, but the alpha softens in expression, removes his hand from the omega's ass, strips off his clothes, and reveals that he wears no boxers or any underwear at all under his slacks. A practical man, Victor happily thinks. 

After climbing over the blanket barrier of the nest, he takes ahold of the omega and plants him on his lap. The omega purrs at this, finally feeling skin to skin and lolling at the closeness of his alpha. Yuuri deeply inhales the pre-heat pheromones emitting from the omega's scent gland. Spreading apart the omega's legs as he presses against Victor's back, he pushes aside the cocklet and uses his fingers to spread the folds, revealing his sopping hole to the alpha's hard, jutting cock. He growls, "You smell so sweet, Victor." 

He arches back as the very tip of the alpha's cock meets his wet entrance. He moans as the alpha controls the very tiniest movement of his hip. Pushing against the alpha’s hold, Victor impales himself on the alpha's cock, every hard inch stretching his slicked channel. He impatiently tries to get the last few inches in, but is held back by the alpha. 

"So tight around me," praises the alpha, bestowing a kiss on the omega's scent gland on his neck. "You take me so well, Victor. So snug, so wet, it feels like home." He allows Victor to sink the last two inches in, the girth of Yuuri's cock stretching him wide. 

He moans, his back arching against the alpha's body. It feels like he's on display, every bit of arousal and lust visible to anyone who wishes to see. His skin is so hot, so desperate for touch. His core, so deliciously full. He tries to rise for friction, but the alpha's hand clamps him down, pushing the engorged dick further in as it carves a permanent cavern in the omega's cunt. The omega's abdomen outwardly distends, displaced by the cock.

"So good, Victor." Yuuri gently nips on the omega's exposed shoulder, his grip dominating and firm on Victor's hip. He extracts his fingers from the omega's wet, puffy folds. "You're such a good omega for me." 

The omega involuntarily tightens his muscles around the alpha's thick cock. He's dripping, leaking and openly moaning and basking in a flush of pleasure at Yuuri's words. 

Yuuri groans, a hot breath brushing over the omega's shoulder. His slick-covered fingers wrap around Victor's other hip. In a seductive voice, he murmurs, "You know, Victor, sometimes, I fantasize about us." He breathes out, scenting the omega possessively. Cherry blossoms overpowering the omega's thoughts, sending slick down the omega’s thigh. "In this fantasy, Victor, we're stuck together. Not knotted, no. But you are seated onto my cock as if it's the only place you can sit on." 

"I warm you?" whimpers Victor, thinking back to the time he warm Yuuri's cock. Beverly Hills, stuck to Yuuri in that mansion Victor now calls home. He shudders, remembering that he could not come during that phone call. He won't handle it during his heat. He  _ needs  _ to be stuffed. He  _ needs  _ to come. 

"When we aren't mating, you warm me," purrs the alpha, every word a sweet drop of honey throwing firewood onto Victor's heat. "But when we fuck, as I pull out, you clench so hard around my cock, Victor. Because you can't stand it being out of your greedy hole."

He moans at that thought, stuck to the alpha's cock even without a knot. By will and desire and lust. A simple cock warmer attending to Yuuri's flaccid cock when the alpha is busy with work to a dripping tight hole for the alpha to use when horny. In that fantasy, he might as well quit professional singing, because Yuuri will be the only one in the audience. He bares his neck, the scent gland pumping out heat pheromones. The kind of pheromones evolved to be irresistible to the alpha of the omega's interest. 

"Want to practice?" The words spark an eagerness in the omega, and the alpha moans as Victor rises up in enthusiastic agreement. 

Through the pleasant haze of his heat, as the cock slips out of his cunt, Victor concentrates hard on squeezing the alpha's impaling cock. Every moan drawn from Yuuri's mouth makes his passage slicker, allowing the cock to easily glide. 

Yuuri's hands suddenly push down on the omega's hips, quickly shoving his cock back home in Victor's tightening cunt. Yuuri whispers, "You learn very fast, Victor. Do you need some more practice?" 

Victor nods, frantically. He pulls himself off of the alpha's thick, hard cock, desperately training his cunt to cling to the alpha. Before the head could slip out of Victor's hole, the alpha once again forces his length deep inside Victor. The omega cries, moaning in ecstasy. They do that a few more times, Victor pulling off and clamping down on the alpha's erection and then Yuuri quickly bottoming out the omega. Victor thinks there will be bruises on his hip by the end of the heat; he can't wait to be proven correct. 

"Stop," speaks the alpha, just as omega is about to move again. He quietly wonders, "Since you've mastered this pace, Victor, do you think you can handle it when we're moving faster?" He gives one last nip on the omega's scent gland, the scent of cherry blossoms intensifying. The omega drowns in the scent, blazing into his desires. 

"Yes, please," begs the omega, the very words proven to be the end of him. He gasps when Yuuri takes control, no longer allowing the omega to set the rhythm. 

He tries to tighten himself around the alpha's cock, flexing those kegel muscles in his cunt. But Yuuri's thrusts rapidly throws anything the omega learned in the last few moments out of the figurative window. Yuuri's pounding away at Victor's hole, and his heat rejoices at this fertile alpha taking care of him at this carnal level. His hands fly behind to clutch at the alpha's messy hair, clinging tightly as he's drilled. His head rolls back, his sweaty hot skin rubbing against the alpha's. 

"You're so beautiful," Yuuri moans, greedy hands forcing the omega's ass to slap against his ample, thick thighs. Slick squelches between them. "You're so hot around me, Victor." He gasps out, his mouth kissing away at the omega's back. In between kisses, he praises, "It's like you're made for this. Made perfectly, just for me."

The omega cries as he's approaching his climax. "Yes, yes, please, Yuuri. Harder, fuck," he breathes. “Fuck me, please.” 

Yuuri, ever such a gentleman, carries out the request. He continues, his words flowing out of his mouth like a river forming from melted mountaintops. "You need more practice, Victor," he gasps out. "But you did do well." 

The omega's eyes roll back, whimpering at the delicious friction. His hard cocklet slaps shamelessly, leaking slick against his own stomach from the sheer force of Yuuri's pounding, and Victor feels his capabilities for vocabulary, which served him well during songwriting, disappearing altogether. The words are reduced, and he's panting out the same words over and over again like a prayer. "Yuuri, please, please, fuck, knot. Harder!" 

Victor is melting into his heat, slipping over to his primal side. Submitting to this alpha. Allowing this alpha to care and protect him during his heat. Omega space, psychologists would call it. Each drop into omega space differs from omega to omega. Common to occur during heats when an omega is in strong, secured bond and completely trusts the alpha. Victor slowly falls into it and then suddenly all at once, drowning into Yuuri. 

His eyes flash, and somehow finding enough strength, he pulls Yuuri's hands off his hip. He pushes the alpha onto his back. He somehow remembers Yuuri's spoken fantasy, so he twists around on Yuuri's cock to lean over the stunned alpha. He flips his long silver hair over his shoulder. Baring his neck at the alpha, he purrs, "Why don't you ever bite me, alpha? Put a permanent mating bite on my neck." 

Yuuri gasps, his hip stilling itself. He freezes, as if knowing that something fundamental has flipped a switch inside of the omega. He softly admits, "Because you haven't asked for it, omega." 

The omega whines in disappointment. His long silver hair tickles at the alpha's shoulder, a single finger curving under the alpha's rosy bottom lip. In a completely bratty voice, he demands, "I want a mating bite and the fanciest, ridiculous, rarest, prettiest, and most expensive collar ever. The most bedazzling collar ever so that no alpha could ever meet up to my standards that is you. And ten babies." 

Yuuri chokes at the last one. His face pales, but he recovers quickly and politely says, "That will all take a while." 

"Then be faster," complains the omega, rushing through words and sentences and thoughts that would have never come out of Victor's mouth outside of an omega space. He seductively purrs at the alpha, pumping out the most enticing and alluring pheromones from his scent gland. The biggest guns, per se. "I want to exit out of this heat undoubtedly pregnant with your bite on my neck." He reaches down to his stomach, squeezing away at his cocklet. He clenches tighter around the alpha's cock. 

"But what about the collar?" 

The omega pauses, internally debating with himself. He finally comes to a conclusion. "Fine. Collar first. Then mating bite." A pause. "Don't leave this heat without making me pregnant." 

Yuuri nods, keeping a straight face on. "As you wish." Then he earnestly takes ahold of the omega's sides, thrusting deep inside the omega. 

The omega doesn't hold back. To each of the alpha's powerful thrusts, he slams back hard against Yuuri. Using the alpha's shoulders as leverage, he chases his own release, moaning freely under the alpha's captivated gaze. His cunt milks Yuuri's cock, and the omega whines, "Yuuri, I want your come in me! All of it!” He squeezes desperately around the alpha’s cock. 

The omega gasps and climaxes when Yuuri's cock drags along his prostate. It takes a few more thrusts before Yuuri comes too, hot seed spilling deep inside of the omega. They still for a moment, a gentle respite. 

"I want more seed," says Victor, gasping and clenching to keep everything in. The omega pouts, accusing eyes staring daggers at his alpha. "Why is there no knot?" 

"Patience," whispers Yuuri. Then he rolls both of them over and begins pounding his way up to an actual knot, a natural plug to keep all of his seed inside of the omega's starved cunt.

* * *

Victor blinks away, groaning at the sore muscles. This is worse than the time he spent in Frankfurt and Tokyo combined. Both times had rounds of sex with Yuuri which resulted in muscle aches, bruises, and a sore ass for days. His heat, which ranges from two to three days, has to be ten times worse in feeling. He’ll have to take a week off to recover. 

Unlike all of his other heats, Victor has absolutely no memories of this one and vague recollection of pre-heat, in which Yuuri was teaching him filthy, depraved trick. He rolls over to face the naked alpha and tries to speak. 

Absolutely nothing comes out. 

The alpha immediately reaches over to the nightstand and helps Victor with a glass of water. He soothes him, an arm wrapping itself around the omega. "You okay, Victor?" 

The omega blinks, confused as he takes in the state of the hotel suite. Clothes are spread out around on the carpet, a pile of sheets and towels has been carelessly dumped into a corner, and an unfamiliar suitcase is on the sofa. It’s like a hurricane has swept by in Seattle of all places. "What happened?" 

"You went into heat," Yuuri softly answers. “Do you remember what happened during heat?”

The omega slowly shakes his head, trying not to release any distressed pheromones. He has shared several heats with various partners. All except one from his pre-Agape days have signed nondisclosure agreements and such. He remembers every single heat from the beginning to the end, no matter how boring or repetitive it became to him. Never has he ever actually  _ forgotten  _ a heat. 

“Okay,” nods Yuuri, calmly scenting the omega. He places the glass back onto the nightstand and then runs a nervous hand through his hair. “You went into a drop.” 

The omega’s heart skips a beat, panicking at the words. 

“No, no, no, no!” quickly says the alpha. “Not that kind of drop. I mean you. . .” His words dance over each other, the usually composed alpha unable to smoothly explain. He tugs at his hair and then he blurts out, “Dropped into omega space.” 

Victor blinks, absolutely confused. His heart pounds, but he’s no longer distressed. Cautiously, he voices, “But that’s not possible. Omega space are for bonded omegas in heats.” 

His face neutral, Yuuri carefully speaks, “But it happened anyway, Victor. Maybe it’s for highly compatible pairings as well?”

“Yeah, maybe,” agrees Victor. Silence falls over the couple, and tentatively, Victor questions, “So how was I? In omega space?” 

“Extremely bratty and persistent. At one point, you demanded me to lay the entire world at your feet and then put several babies in you,” answers the alpha, pressing a kiss to the omega’s forehead. Yuuri’s brown eyes glimmer warmly at the surprised omega, and he holds Victor into an embrace. Scenting the omega with his comforting smell of cherry blossoms, he muses, “Omega space or not, I still like you, Victor. Just the way you are. As always. Promise.” 


	17. Frottage ft. Fucking Machines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frottage | <strike>Praise Kink</strike> | <strike>Cock Worship</strike> | <strike>Object Insertion or Sounding</strike>

The end of May arrives in a rush. Back in Beverly Hills with Makkachin, the omega spends most of the time with his poodle, on the ultramarine dildo in the exact shape of Yuuri's dick that has been modified so the sex machine could continuously pump into him and thus saving his joints, inside of the indoors gym and in the heart-shaped swimming pool, and on his phone. Sometimes even doing more than two things at once.

After all, what is the point of being on the sex machine and Yuuri's gift without showing how appreciative he is of the replica? 

He sends a fifteen second video of the dildo pumping in and out of him at a leisurely pace, taking care not to include his face or any identifying features. 

Yuuri replies back in twenty minutes, _ How can I make any money to buy you nice things when you send me videos and pictures like that? _

Grinning, he shoots a photo of the remote control casually laying on the bed sheets. 

_ I can't work today. I cancelled a meeting. Show me your pretty cocklet. _

Victor does more than that. He records an obstructed view of his hard, leaking cocklet and then of his hand reaching to stroke at his member. A twist of the wrist reveals the dildo still being fucked meticulously in and out of Victor's puffy hole. 

After all, pictures can't capture the soft moans and sweet begs spilling from the omega's mouth. 

His phone pings. 

_ You better be prepared, Victor. I'm coming for you. Wait two hours. _

Well, Victor would wait for far more than that. As he waits for the alpha to arrive from San Francisco, Victor gives a long look of consideration at the pistoning sex machine. Well, it’s not like he can’t come again in two hours. And he should tease the alpha as well, concludes Victor. After all, he has given him a great gift. 

He hits the remote control to pause the machine and rolls over onto his fours. Holding the glistening, wet dildo to his hole, he moans as the machine begins again. He reaches for his phone and adjusts the camera angle so that the alpha would have a perfect view of his curved ass and the ultramarine dildo sinking deeply and slowly into his cunt.

* * *

It actually takes Yuuri two and a half hours to get to LAX, sadly enough. A text from the alpha has notified the omega the very second he arrived in Los Angeles. On the bright side, Victor has already sent over two dozen photos of filthy close-ups and twelve uncensored videos containing noises and enough material to send TMZ into a fit if they ever got ahold of them. Victor suspects Yuri Plisetsky would have to be sent to a psychiatric ward and his lawyers on retainer would be working overtime to contain the damage. But there’s a large part of him that trusts the alpha to not do anything that will wreck his reputation forever. However, as a precaution, he avoids putting his face in any of the pictures or videos. 

After riding through his climax and then napping for half an hour, he decides to move to the first floor and sit in the parlour, an internet radio playing in the background. He sips his tea with jam and adjusts his fluffy green bathrobe. From the expansive windows that providing perfect advantage of the driveway, he notes a white car with tinted windows bypassing the security gate and pulling up to the mansion. It’s Yuuri without a doubt. He always picks rental cars, because he doesn’t actually own any cars in California and travels too frequently to stay in one place. But he always remembers the security code for the gate. 

Sometimes, he likes to imagine the kind of car Yuuri would pick. Maybe a sedan. He'll like to picture Yuuri with a caravan and dad jeans. He doesn’t think Yuuri would go for a sports car. . . Unless. . . 

His thoughts puts on a brake when he spies a familiar figure emerging from the car. Running to open the front door, the omega smiles at Yuuri, who is running his hand through his messy gelled hair. Purring innocently, he says, “Yuuri, you look so winded. Were you exercising earlier?” 

"You know what you were doing." He growls, picking up the omega easily and then knocking the door closed with his foot. He slips off his shoes, surprisingly able to leave them neatly by the door all while carrying Victor in his arms. 

He does not carry him to the bed. 

Instead, he plops him on the sofa in front of the television with ease. He leans back, surveying the omega below him. "You are such a brat," declares Yuuri. 

The omega blinks owlishly. "I am?" 

"Yes," confirms the alpha, his voice dropped to a whisper. "My partners were dismayed that I had to cancel all of my meetings and phone calls for today. I'm almost tempted to show them the reason why." 

Victor sweats, gasping in surprise. "You plan to share me to them?" 

He growls again. "Don't push it or else I'll have to punish you." Then he goes over to the television, facing away from the omega. Scanning through titles after titles of DVDs on the shelves, he sighs and questions, "You don't own any actual movies?" 

"I like binging TV shows," says the omega, whining. "Movies are too short." 

"That was something I would had said back in college," mutters the alpha, turning the television on and hitting the button for Netflix. "I had no idea how I passed anything." 

"Cause you're clever and smart," answers the omega. All good qualities that is perfect in a mate, actually. Strong, capable, caring, considerate, the list goes on and on. If only Victor could bond with him, but no, it's always the alphas who make that step. 

The alpha flashes a smile. "You weren't there. Phichit didn't understand how I was partying one night and still passing midterms the next day. With at least a score of eighty or greater." He puts on some random documentary about natural birds, specifically seagulls. 

"Impressive," says the omega, flashing back to his days of frantically practicing the night before the examination. Singing and singing, practicing his violin until his fingers bleed. Showing up the next morning, wowing his instructors as if every song he plays and sings is just natural. He would never dare to visit a party the night before. It sounds incredibly reckless for Victor, for one glass of something turns into five and then it's eleven in the morning and he's hellishly late for class at Juilliard. 

"I hope you like seagulls. Interesting birds," comments Yuuri. "I liked this documentary. It was good when I saw it on a flight." 

Honestly, Victor could not give two shits about seagulls when he has Yuuri ready and available right in front of him. Still, he decides to give a hand at civility and asks, "Do you like seagulls?" 

"The gulls remind me of my childhood. In Hasetsu, Japan. We were practically overrun by them," says Yuuri, looking a little pensive. “There was a lot of bird poop all over the railings by the beach. They lived there. In colonies. So that’s why we’re watching this.” 

"This is a documentary. Not a movie," points out Victor, an edge of petulant tone entering his voice. He raises his nose. “Am I going to get a choice?”

“No. This is your punishment.” Then Yuuri pulls the curtains and settles onto the couch, his arm wrapped around the omega’s torso. “I promise, Victor. It’s a good documentary. Just try to focus.”

Telling Victor to focus is like telling a hyper five-year-old to not look at the glittery box of gummy worms in a candy shop. There’s a super long introduction with a baby seagull stepping out of its cracked shell, piano music flowing in the background. Victor tries, and yes, he tries very hard, but he’s sitting right next to Yuuri, a virile alpha that is _ not _fucking him right this moment. It’s completely unfair, and yes, Victor might have sent some stimulating videos and pictures, but he sincerely thought the alpha would appreciate them and maybe thank him in person. He did not expect Yuuri to fly down from Northern California and watch a documentary and blow the omega off in general. 

It’s probably ten minutes later when Victor sighs, a little bit louder than usual. He glances over to the alpha, watching the way the television’s lights reflect off his glasses. The alpha is absolutely engrossed in the documentary, taking in the paddling of a seagull and the mobbing behaviors of gulls. Victor sighs again, deciding he’ll watch the alpha instead of the documentary. He’s proven to be far more interesting anyway. 

He squirms as his eyes eventually flick down at Yuuri’s lap, staring at the way the expensive black fabric stretches over Yuuri’s legs. Slacks, as usual. Slick drips from his entrance as he imagines the alpha’s thick, gorgeous cock sliding into him and filling him in the ways the dildo couldn’t. His mouth dries, and he wiggles in the alpha’s arms, opening up his legs. The scent of his arousal wafts in the air. 

Surely the alpha could smell his slick?

Yuuri completely ignores it, ignores a willing, available, desperate omega. Probably exactly what he wants to do, considering how the documentary is supposed to be Victor’s punishment. But how could it ever be his punishment when Yuuri is so near? 

He arches back, his entrance throbbing so sweetly. He glances over at the alpha, pretending to be shifting his weight as he closes the distance in between his body and Yuuri. He sighs, a little relieved this time, when his empty cunt is merely a few inches away from the omega’s goal. He waits a few minutes, listening to Yuuri’s steady breathing. The documentary is now prattling on about the mating habits of gulls where the male seagull will deposits his seed into cloaca. Victor tries not to be jealous of a seagull that apparently can have her mate actually deposit his seed into her. 

Unlike him, who struggles with an alpha more interested in copulating seagulls than the act of actually copulating. 

He supposes he might have to do more work this time. The next minute has his fingers sneaking up Yuuri’s thigh. The next moment has Yuuri’s fingers wrapped firmly around his wrist. 

The alpha hits pause on the documentary. Finally giving the omega a shred of attention, he knowingly asks, “Victor, are you getting bored?" 

The is the _ exact _ attention he has been yearning for. He decides not to lie but rather circumvent Yuuri's question. Baring his pale, flawless neck, he slowly replies, "I want you inside me so badly, Yuuri." 

The alpha makes a nonchalant sound. "No." 

The omega whines, suddenly so much more desperate. He nearly screams at the television when the documentary unpauses, mating seagulls awkwardly standing on top of the other. He tries not to seethe in jealousy at those birds. None of them have mates as cruel as his alpha. 

The omega waits patiently again, trying to seize his moment. The hem of his bathrobe flares out as his leg is thrown over the alpha's lap. He gets no acknowledgment from Yuuri. Emboldened by this, Victor adjusts himself completely onto of the alpha's lap, moaning at the way the alpha's cock hardens at the omega's touch. 

The documentary pauses again.

Holding the remote control in one hand and ignoring his erection in his pants, the alpha merely says, "Victor, you're blocking my view." 

The omega purrs at his alpha, finally understanding the game. Just because Yuuri's cock can't be in him doesn't mean he can't have any fun. He tears off his bathrobe and shoves it aside, his bare skin chilled by the circulating air. He shifts his weight to one side and then settles against Yuuri. His scent gland is pressing against Yuuri's neck, and he's purring even louder than the squawks of the mating seagulls. 

Slick pours down his entrance, and he nearly sobs at the way Yuuri's cock feels against his cunt through the slacks. It's so good, and he breathes in Yuuri's scent, smelling the tightly controlled arousal in his alpha. He smiles against the alpha's shoulders, his back arching in delight. 

Then he begins to move. 

Grinding himself against the alpha’s clothed erection isn’t easy at first. It’s hot, yes, but he longs for more skin, more touch, just _ more _of Yuuri. But the omega persists, reaching up to clutch at Yuuri’s gelled hair and moaning openly at the way the friction builds between them. 

Yuuri’s pants are completely ruined, slick permanently marked all over his front. Victor’s hole leaks copiously, so achingly ready for the alpha to plunge in his cock and breed him so much better than what seagulls could do. 

But Yuuri will deny him his cock. 

He groans at the way the cloth stretches across Yuuri's erection. He rises a little and tries to insert the alpha's cock into his cunt. It's unsuccessful, and the omega, as he chases his releases, ruts against the alpha. There's no technique here, just him writhing on the alpha's lap like a wanton whore. 

He rides harder, rubbing his cocklet against the alpha and whines at the way he's closing into his climax all while Yuuri casually watches his documentary. He comes with his back arching, slick spilling out of his cocklet and onto the alpha's shirt. 

The television is suddenly switched off.

Fingers capture Victor's chin, redirecting his attention back to the alpha. Yuuri softly states, every word a drop of melted honey, "You just couldn't help yourself, couldn't you, Victor?"


	18. Wax Play ft. Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Latex</strike> | <strike>Straightjacket</strike> | Wax Play | <strike>Breast Worship</strike>

"I'm so disappointed in you, Victor," purrs the alpha, not a single hint of disappointment in his voice. His eyes glint behind his glasses, and he ignores the mess of slick in his lap. "I came here to watch a nice documentary with you, and you can't control yourself, just rubbing yourself all over me. You destroyed my pants. Do you remember what I taught you? It seems that you've completely forgotten, Victor." 

The omega thinks back. There's quite a few things, but there's one phrase he remembers the most. "Good things come to those who wait?"

“Was that a question?” the alpha tsks. 

Victor gulps. Oops. 

A finger traces the omega's lip, and Yuuri murmurs and continues, "But you didn't wait. Absolutely no self-control. No restraint on your part. Do you need a lesson in patience again?" 

The omega's mouth dries, biting back a moan and holding back an urge to present himself on top of the coffee table to show much he longs for that. Hell, yes, he wants a lesson in patience. He wants everything Yuuri could give to him. He wants Yuuri Katsuki for the rest of his life. 

Holding his hand, the alpha leads him into the grandiose, extravagant, spacious kitchen. The marble white countertops shine with pride, and Yuuri lifts the naked omega onto its cold edge, uncaring about the slick slowly pooling onto the surface. He mutters, opening cabinets and pulling out various objects from the drawers. 

"What are you looking for?" asks Victor. He's sitting next to a pile of the most random things: a peeler, three cooking pots, several pairs of chopsticks, a cutting board, a measuring cup, two wooden spoons, a spatula, dishwasher soap, a roll of light white-brown twine, meat tenderizer, and seven sticks of white candles. He really hopes the alpha doesn't decide to use all of them on him. He doesn't even know  _ how _ they could all be used on him. 

Yuuri pulls open the fridge door. He clicks his tongue. "I really have to tell the housekeeper to go shopping more frequently. How often does the chef come?" 

"She has my schedule. So she comes twice a day unless I tell her I’m eating out with a friend or with my manager or have a flight,” answers the omega, his eyes following the alpha’s hands. He watches the alpha emerge from the pantry with a bag of rice and then ducks out of the pantry again with a rice cooking pot. 

The alpha hums. "I hope she has more ingredients to work with than this pitiful selection." 

Victor tries not to bristle. He has cooked with that selection many times before and finds it more than adequate. Scrambled eggs with ketchup and pre-made sausages. Salads for lunch, if he's home. Of course, they probably don't meet Yuuri's standards, though he has not yet tried any food personally made from the alpha's hands. 

It takes several long seconds for the omega to put two and two together. “Wait, you’re cooking right now?”

“It is five o’clock,” Yuuri points out. He gives an aside at the omega as he rinses through the white rice. “What time do you typically eat dinner?” 

"Eight." 

Absorbing Victor’s answer, Yuuri nods at that. "Then we have three hours to prepare. I intend to stuff you, Victor." He switches the rice cooker on, having washed and prepared the Jasmine rice. "Do you want to watch or you prefer being surprised?" 

"Watch," answers the omega. 

The alpha smiles, picking up a roll of twine from the pile of miscellaneous kitchenware. "I was hoping that was your answer. Otherwise, you'll be bored for two hours on the dining table." 

His heart skips at that. And he stays still, deathly still, as the alpha moves his hands behind his back and proceeds to wrap the little thread several times around the omega's wrist. The twine is a little scratchy, but he quickly adapts to its touch. It's snug enough to prevent the omega from slipping it off but not harsh enough to be biting and digging into Victor's skin. 

Victor thinks he once used this to wrap chicken legs while making chicken soup one night. He suspects he will never look at this twine the same way ever again. He doesn't think he'll be able to use twine anymore. No more chicken soup for him. 

"Is it okay?"

Victor nods. "Yes."

"Do you remember your safe word, Victor?" softly inquires the alpha, dark eyes gazing at the omega. At the omega's nod, Yuuri smiles and adds, "Don't forget to use it when it gets too overwhelming for you." 

He doesn't admit aloud that he wants Yuuri to overwhelm him. He likes the idea of being the alpha's in every way possible, legally, romantically, knowingly. He wants him so much that his hunger will never be truly sated when Yuuri is so far away or even so close. With Yuuri, it feels like he's balancing on a cliff, the true description of their relationship like uncharted waters below and he has yet to submerge to discover the answer. He wants to be with the alpha so desperately, and he's so afraid that Yuuri doesn't mean the same. He's afraid of the clock striking twelve, the carriage unraveling into a pumpkin. 

"You're thinking too much," muses the alpha. He taps his foot, eyeing up and down the omega's body. Twine plays between his fingers. He moves the omega further down the countertops until he's right next to the sink. 

Victor tries not to stare too closely at the trail of slick on the surface. It glistens at him, the wetness revealing how ready and willing he is for this alpha. 

Yuuri wraps twine twice around his ankles, securing them to the handles of cabinet's doors. Victor could lift his foot a little, but he'll never be able to go too far, not more than two inches. His left leg parts from his right as Yuuri tugs away the ankle and ties it to two cabinet handles underneath the sink. 

The omega glances behind him. He could easily choose to lean back and simply lie down on the countertops. But as he turns his head, simply eyeing the alpha pull out things from the fridge and spices Victor can’t name, he decides that Yuuri-watching would be far more entertaining. He tenses several times whenever Yuuri comes over to wash his hands or wash some utensils, but the alpha completely ignores him, as if Victor is somehow below his attention. 

“Yuuri,” he purrs, deciding to see if his alpha would react. He squirms in his bonds, the cabinet doors quietly banging against each other. “Yuuri.”

Yuuri completely ignores him, acting as if deaf or completely pretending that Victor isn’t even in the kitchen. He opens three packages for some pork meat and takes a butcher knife from the knife block. Merely three feet away from the omega, he casually begins cutting them up. His back stretches and flexes, his muscles working to run the knife through the pork chops. The blade slice into the meat, easily parting for the alpha. 

Victor once thought he had seen the peak of Yuuri’s sexiness. He has witnessed him pole dancing. He has seen him in full control of himself, discussing business like a boss over the phone. He has seen him whispering filthy words, playing the omega’s body like an instrument. He has seen him wet with water, the beautiful and wordless way droplets roll down his body. But this is primal, diving deep into days where alphas, in order to impress future and potential mates, provided for them to show their capability and qualities. This is the alpha showing him how good he’ll be for their pups. He’ll watch them, he’ll provide for them so they’ll never want for any needs and will never go hungry at night. 

The omega softly purrs at this thought, very much open to the alpha. 

Of course, part of the test still includes the actual, final product. However, the omega can’t deny that the alpha is looking very good so far, flying with brilliant colors and soaring high above the omega’s standards. In fact, Yuuri is setting up a new standard, one untouchable by anyone else. Yuuri has ruined him forever.

He loves it. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Almost. 

Time ticks by while Yuuri finishes with food prep. Victor’s not certain of what exactly Yuuri is preparing. It’s definitely more than one dish. There’s soup simmering on the stove, and he suspects it’s chicken broth, although he is too distracted by the view of dried slick all over the front of Yuuri’s slacks. He drools, wishing he could be that slick right now. It would be nice if he could be closer to Yuuri’s dick. 

Yuuri still seems hellbent on torturing him, though. 

“Yuuri,” he murmurs, his words taking on a begging tone. “Why don’t you touch me?” He wiggles at his bonds, the wooden cabinets banging and slamming in empathy with the omega. He fidgets, trying his best to rub his entrance against the slicked countertops. There’s little friction in there, and the omega finds small relief, but no, it’s not enough. He needs something more, something that could penetrate him. He raises his head to stare at the alpha, who is the only one in this entire world who can give him what he needs. 

Yuuri doesn't give a response or even turns his head to give Victor a scrap of attention. He continues chopping through carrots and various vegetables at breakneck speed. 

“Yuuri,” he drawls, desperate for a response. “Yuuri, I’ve been well-behaved. Can you let me go? I promise I won’t be bad.” 

That certain gets Yuuri’s attention. Or at least, some of his attention. Shifting away from the cutting board, he pours oil into a large frying pan. Not even looking at the omega as the alpha casually begins to pan fry some meat. The smell is amazing, wafting from the frying pan. But it still doesn’t smell as good as Yuuri’s pheromones. The alpha says, “You won’t? You’ve been bad all day, Victor. I’ve counted thirty-four videos and twenty-nine pictures of you sexting me while I was at work. Sixty-three offenses, Victor. Did you know what I was doing?”

“No,” Victor chokes out. He certainly did not realize that Yuuri actually counted every single one. His throat tightens, and slick leaks into a puddle on the countertop below him. 

“I was at UC Berkeley earlier today. Haas School of Business,” answers Yuuri. “Did you know how disappointed some of the students were when I couldn’t be there to explain the many opportunities that are available overseas? Or how I didn’t have any time to explain the importance of business consulting?” 

Victor impatiently whines, “But alpha. . .” 

“But Victor,” singingly parrots Yuuri. 

He shuts up after that and obediently lets Yuuri unbind him and then carry him to the dining table to sit at a long bench in lieu of a chair. He’s struck by how oddly romantic everything appears with the dishes piled in front of them and candlesticks glowing in the middle of the table. Sitting in alpha’s lap and slowly dripping slick all over the alpha’s clothes again, he eats every bite of Yuuri’s delicious food, moaning at the way the alpha could cook. He introduces dishes he has never even heard of, originating from Germany and France and Thailand and South Korea. He groans at the sweet and salty way bulgogi plays on his tongue.

The alpha mournfully says, completely unaware of how amazing the dish is, “Unfortunately, I could not marinate it overnight. It would taste better.” 

“How could this taste even better?” he cries. He thinks he sees the secrets the universe holds as flavors explode across his taste buds. 

This time, the alpha eats too. Sharing a plate together, with Victor completely naked yet free from his bonds, he finds an intimacy he rarely receives. There is peace in being in Yuuri’s arms, being fed by him. He purrs into the alpha, quite full. Rubbing his scent gland into Yuuri’s collared shirt, he blinks slowly and sleepily. He listens to the alpha softly chewing through bok choy and then swallowing, hearing the steady thump of the alpha’s strong heart. 

He glances over to the grandfather clock in the corner. Eight o’clock, almost precisely on the dot. 

“Sleepy, Victor?”

The omega nods, briefly closing his eyes. 

“Then sleep,” says the alpha, running his hand through Victor’s long hair. “I’ll clean up the kitchen and the food.” He adjusts the omega’s limbs on the bench and retrieves a thick blanket from the parlour.

Lying on the bench, the omega quickly dozes off into a nap. 

He doesn’t sleep for long. Or at least, he doesn’t think it was a long time. The dishes on the table are gone yet the long thin candlesticks still burn, the flames dancing over white melting wax. There’s the sound of dishes being washed from the kitchen, and he hears the three bubbly beats signaling that the dishwasher has started. 

Yuuri reemerges into the dining room, pausing to meet Victor’s eyes. He smiles warmly and asks, “You ready to go to bed?” 

Victor vehemently shakes his head. He throws off the blanket, sending it to the floor. Arching his back and spreading his legs to show Yuuri his aching hole, he purrs, “I’m still waiting, alpha. I don’t think it’s late enough to go to bed.” 

“Alright then. I suppose we’ll continue your punishment, Victor,” Yuuri declares, picking up the omega to plant him onto the smooth dining table. He wraps his hand around Victor’s and moves each of them to the edge of the table. “Hold on. Legs spread. Do I need to bring some twine?”

“No,” slowly gasps Victor. Cool air brushes by his wet cunt, the contrast of heat and cold sparking his nerves. He’s breathing in the rich pheromones of the alpha, who is growing more and more interested and aroused by the second. At last. He could feel Yuuri reciprocating and this time, the alpha isn't down to fully tease him all through the night. 

At least. He thinks not. 

The alpha smiles, the candlelight making his glasses glint wickedly. He takes ahold of one candle, pulling it off its holder. Holding it high enough for Victor to see, he pours it over the omega's hands. 

Tiny pinpricks of delight crawls up Victor's spine. 

It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt at all. It's in the sensations, the heat so sudden and surprising. The wax quickly hardens and cools. He purrs at the feeling and nearly misses the alpha's question. 

"Is that alright?"

The omega nods eagerly. 

Yuuri tries different places, going for the arms, the upper torso. He watches the way the omega arches up and clenches harder at the table with his knuckles turning white with desperation. He murmurs, "You look so beautiful like this, Victor. I must get some different wax. Your skin is a light shade of red. With the right color, I'll paint you with wax. Can you imagine the photos?" 

Victor moans, squirming under the hot wax. The drops slip downwards, pouring all over his inner thighs yet cleanly avoiding the parts of him that need the most stimulation. He moans at the alpha, silently begging. 

The alpha's voice drops low. "Can you imagine the videos, Victor? I think they'll turn out so pretty. You just desperate for more, moaning at the camera. I'll make sure we have close ups of you, especially between your legs. You just love filming your hole, empty or not." 

Victor resists thrashing when the hot wax pours over his naval. It's incredibly hot at touch, and his skin is reddening angrily. He bares his neck for the alpha, but he does not dare to interrupt Yuuri. 

"Anyone who watches that video will know how much of a needy omega you are, Victor. How horny. How thirsty. How desperate for a cock. A thick cock to fill you up. A nice knot to plug up all the seed. They'll see your hole, weeping with slick for anything. But we will know the truth, Victor." 

The wax splashes over the omega's harden nipple, sending him arching. He arches again, his eyes on the alpha when he pours wax onto the other nipple. 

The alpha continues on. "They won't know. They'll just see a pretty hole that they can dream of but will never get, Victor. They'll touch themselves at the thought of you. But they could never have you, Victor. Even if they have you at their touch, you'll be left wanting. They’ll never be able to satisfy you like I can.” 

With a twist of Yuuri’s wrist, the hot wax comes pouring down on the omega’s hard cocklet. It rolls down his flesh and licks a line of fire over the omega’s cunt. So thoroughly captured by the alpha’s unyielding gaze, Victor comes with a scream, slick spurting from his cocklet all over the dining table. 


	19. Biting ft. Praise Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Aphrodisiacs</strike> | <strike>Double Penetration</strike> | Biting | <strike>Uniforms</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, please welcome to the start of actual plot. Like wtf. Actual plot???? Okay, this will last from ch. 19 to 23. I think. Then we'll be back to our daily porn!

The next morning, Victor pulls out a clean fluffy white bathrobe from the closet and paddles downstairs to stare bemused at the number of workmen moving in and out of the front door. Yuuri is there as well, directing them to Victor’s new inspiration room, which is really a studio but Victor prefers it being called inspiration. 

"Yuuri?" he calls out, ignoring the curious looks from the workmen handling various boxes all labeled as delicate. 

The alpha spies the omega. He is by Victor's side in a few strides. With his hand on Victor's back, he guides him back upstairs and away from the deliverymen's eyes. "I forgot that I do owe you a piano, so I ordered one yesterday before I left San Francisco. Wait an hour and they'll put it together." He steps down the stairs, pulling out his smartphone and making a call. Letting out a sigh, he murmurs, "Need some NDAs now. Hello? It's Yuuri Katsuki. I need some of your. . ." The alpha's voice drifts away. 

An hour later, Victor comes down to the northeast room to see a grand piano in the very center. All the workmen have left by now, and Victor did not miss Yuuri and a few people dressed in impeccable suits arguing outside with the workmen twenty minutes later. He did not miss the way the workmen all finally submitted to signing a packet of paperwork and did not miss the transaction of a stack of what appears to be cash to each man. They finally drove away, and then group of what appears to be lawyers climb into their respective, fancy European cars, leaving through the gate. 

"You like it?" 

Victor nods, entranced by the piano. It truly is a masterpiece, every bit of it handmade and professionally crafted. He's certain that when he plays, every note will sing and hold true. Expensive yet utterly brand new, the German-made grand piano shines with an aura of superiority and class. The old piano Victor has used the last several years sits in the corner, not even in the same league as the new one. 

"It cost a hundred and twenty thousand," reveals Yuuri, his hand rising to comb out the tangles in the omega's hair. "Shipping it here was expensive but having it delivered even more so." 

"How much was that?" 

Yuuri pauses at tha, mentally calculating. "Maybe twenty-three thousand. I still haven't gotten the invoice from the moving company." 

Victor blinks at the piano. 

Pressing a kiss at the omega's covered shoulders, the alpha softly requests, “Would you mind playing something for me?” 

Nodding, the omega steps forward towards the piano. He takes a moment to admire the polished lid before lifting it up to expose the piano’s strings and then runs his fingers around the side. There will surely be grease stains on there, all just because Victor touched it. It glows under his fingers, and then the omega pauses in front of the fallboard. Holding the fallboard carefully at its ridge, he lifts it up to reveal the ivory and black keys. Each one shines, as if meticulously polished with pride. He sits on the bench for a moment, and then he warms up, running through the scales as easily as riding a bike. 

After a few minutes of reacquainting himself to the piano, he begins to play the most complex and difficult chunk of "Gold Blades," a pop song from  _ 5 Years  _ that started out on the piano before being autotuned and then synthesized. He ends with the last two notes and dares a glance at Yuuri. 

The alpha smiles. "That's gorgeous, Victor. Would you like to play something else?" 

Victor rises from his seat and pulls off his violin case from the shelves. He shakes his head and says, "No, I want you to play." He opens the violin case to pull out his most trusted violin. 

The alpha's thrown for a second. "Me?" 

The omega nods determinedly. "The song you played a long time ago." He gestures welcomely to his old piano placed against the wall. "The same song you played on that piano." 

Yuuri steps forward, his footfalls silent on the wood floors. He settles at the piano, the foot placed on the rightmost pedal. Then he begins, the notes chasing each other as he moves his body back and forth to the music. The piano flows beautifully, and the omega is struck by the determination and love so vulnerable and visible in his expression. Every motion is graceful, every hand movement precise and flawless from years of experience of playing this song. 

With ears so thoroughly enchanted by the song, the omega is so caught up in the music that he nearly misses his entrance, the violin a complement to the piano. He quickly raises the bow to the violin, sweetly playing into the piano's voice. 

Yuuri’s eyes widen at him, yet his hands continue anyway. They play together, the violin and the piano falling and rising. 

To Victor, it feels like another way to love. 

The music ends with a triumph, the piano fading away. The moment of silence drags on between them, and the omega watches Yuuri’s eyes flutter closed, his chest rising and falling slowly in rhythm. He's so still. 

“There’s some things I want to add in there from other instruments,” explains Victor, quickly breaking away the silence. He gently places the violin back into the case and stows it away onto the shelf with the other black violin cases. “A little bit of percussion. I heard your song, and I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I decided to mess around it. I don’t know if I—”

“It’s perfect,” interrupts the alpha, opening his eyes. The next word is whispered out of his mouth. “Complete.”

Victor slowly approaches the alpha, noting the tears shimmering in his eyes. He places a hand on Yuuri’s warm, steady shoulder. “Are you okay, Yuuri?” he asks. 

He nods, tugging the fallboard to cover the piano keys. “That was a song I’ve been messing around with since I was in elementary school. I had bad anxiety. Some of it went away, but I still sometimes get panic attacks,” Yuuri admits, his cheeks red and so alive and incredibly human. “But that’s the song I always go back to whenever I need to relax and just play.”

Hearing the raw tone in Yuuri’s voice and his words, Victor wraps his arms around the alpha. He scents the alpha with the calm pheromones. 

“Thank you,” whispers the alpha.

* * *

They did not end up fucking on the piano.

It’s a bit of a shame, though. The daylight perfectly hits the piano at the right angle, and Victor could imagine the mess of naked bodies on the polished piano lid. He could imagine the clear slick dripping all over the place, and he could see the pearly white seed Yuuri could give, dribbling and clashing against the black color of the piano. 

It would be beautiful. 

Instead, they curl up against each other on the daybed near the back porch. The daybed with gold-orange sheets and colorful pillows shouldn’t really be a daybed. It’s too large and extravagant to be, but nevertheless, it is. 

The omega watches Yuuri sleep, returning the favor Yuuri has always done for him. He firmly holds his favorite comb, which is wood and ornate with a beautiful swan for a small handle, as he brushes through Yuuri’s hair over and over again. He breathes in, the alpha’s pheromones so relaxed and calm in his slumber. He smiles down, brushing away Yuuri’s hair from his eyelids. He could so imagine this happening day after day, hour by hour, just Yuuri in his lap and peace while he combs through the alpha’s hair. 

He has yet to tell the alpha that he has forgone his heat suppressant pills, which he has taken almost faithfully at around morning’s eight o’clock in PST for the last decade. He figures he’ll tell Yuuri later. 

Victor looks down, his eyes gazing at Yuuri’s slacks. 

The alpha blinks awake, gazing up at the omega’s eyes. With a smirk, he questions, “Victor, do you see something you like?” 

Victor straightens, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t really see what I like, Yuuri.” He sets the brush aside and adds, “Perhaps you’ll like to help with that?” 

In a flash, Yuuri strips out of his slacks and then his shirt, folding away each of his clothes to safely set aside on a nearby armchair. His erection juts out proudly, and he climbs back onto the daybed, slowly approaching the omega. 

“No briefs?” wonders Victor. 

“With you around, I think you’ll be fed up with how long I’ll take to pull off my briefs,” murmurs Yuuri, raising the back of Victor’s hands to press a kiss at his wrist. “Most impatient omega who has ever existed,” says Yuuri, each word filled with pride and joy. He kisses up the omega’s arm and adds, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Completely relaxed, he slowly unwraps Victor’s bathrobe from the omega’s body. He gently sets it aside, folding the bathrobe and planting it on the nearby table. Rolling back to Victor, he kisses the omega’s shoulder and unravels the omega with each heated touch. Each touch is unfailingly reverent, unusually intimate in a way it has never been before. 

Victor finds himself lost under Yuuri’s fathomless gaze, parting his legs open like a flower unfurling its petals to drink in sunlight and lure a honeybee to its pollen and irresistible nectar. 

Yuuri dips a finger in his core for a taste. 

He’s lost, found and charted with each touch from the alpha. He’s completed in the same way the violin completes Yuuri’s song, each drawn sound from his lips an attuned note and each gentle press of skin to skin like a predetermined flick across piano keys. And Yuuri stays close to Victor. Each kiss Yuuri gives is intimate across the omega’s shoulder. The soft kiss against Victor’s heart, the most intimate of all. 

They roll over again, Victor straddling the alpha’s hip and enjoying the hot hard press of Yuuri’s cock against his ass. There’s nothing but the two of them, just alone together in their isolated world. He peers straight into Yuuri’s dark brown eyes, each look so tender and sweet that Victor could feel himself melting at the way Yuuri looks at him. 

Yuuri throws his head back as the omega takes ahold of his cock and aligns it to his entrance. After Victor slowly sinks down on his cock, the alpha whispers, “You’re so beautiful, Victor.” He maneuvers them to their sides, Victor’s leg curled around the alpha’s hip. Thrusting in slowly and languishly, Yuuri ardently admits with a whisper, “No one else could ever meet the standards, Victor. Nobody but you.” 

The words sends a shiver down Victor’s spine. The omega purrs, utterly pleased with the alpha’s words. 

“You are my standards,” mouths Victor, his words silent and unheard by the alpha. He gasps at the sudden brush of the alpha's cock against his prostate, arching in full display for the alpha and tugging Yuuri even closer, as if to mesh their bodies together. 

It takes a long time for Victor to realize there’s something fundamentally different about this. It’s sex, yes. But it’s far sweeter, Victor’s hot flesh singing sweetly under Yuuri’s worship. Yuuri’s palm brushes Victor’s cheek, both pairs of eyes unable to look away from each other. 

As he moves on Yuuri’s cock, massaging and clenching around its girth, a daydream flashes in front of his eyes. He could so easily imagine this to be lovemaking between an alpha and an omega, an act of love and not a transaction from a sugar daddy. He could imagine it to be the easy intimacy found in an actual relationship. He could pretend that he and Yuuri are meant to be. 

So he moves in to kiss Yuuri's lips, open-heartedly and aching for the alpha's bite. He bares his neck, moaning when the alpha nibbles at his scent gland. 

Yuuri's thrust quickens, nearing his release. 

Words prettily fall from the omega's mouth. "Please, Yuuri. Please. I need—"

He feels the hard flash of teeth against his scent gland, quickly spurting slick all over their stomachs. 

In a sleight of the mouth, Yuuri's teeth sinks into Victor's shoulder instead. 

He arches, crying in surprise. Turning his face away from the alpha, he allows Yuuri to spoon him from behind, cherishing each piece of the alpha's heat and warmth. Still pretending. 

He lifts his head up when Yuuri pulls away from the daybed to grab a washcloth. He blinks slowly when Yuuri cleans him up. And he doesn't say a word when Yuuri comes back ten minutes later decked out in one of the many custom suits he leaves here. 

The alpha kisses the omega on his forehead, giving one last sweet smile from the doorway. Dressed in a tailored suit with a dark blue tie that perfectly suits the alpha well, he softly says, “I’m going to a meeting, Victor. I’ll be back later.” 

Once Victor is sure Yuuri has left the house, he sits up. 

He looks out of the window, watching the alpha confidently stride down the concrete steps in front of the house and opens the driver's door to his rental car. Victor presses his nose against the cold glass, his eyes unable to tear itself away from the alpha. Quietly to the window, he hoarsely begs, “Claim me. Keep me forever. You only have to ask.” 

He watches the car roll down the long driveway without a response, the gate closing behind it. 

Victor disappears into the bathroom, studying himself in the floor-length mirror. He notes the angry possessive red bite mark on his left shoulder, the place where Yuuri in the last moment possible choose to bite. It’s merely three inches away from his scent gland. His eyes close, hiding away the warm tears forming at the corners. 

Never before has Yuuri been so close yet so far. 


	20. Distant/Distracted Sex ft. Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Size Difference</strike> | <strike>Scat</strike> | Dirty Talk | Distant/Distracted Sex

Yuuri comes back, though. He brings the most lovely and splendid array of dinner back from a newly opened restaurant in Downtown LA. He also goes back into the garage to retrieve several boxes of objects from the rental car. He orders the omega not to peek at them, the pile of boxes sitting so neatly on the kitchen counters. 

"I can stay over tonight," he says, using chopsticks as his utensils while Victor is using forks and spoons like a true American to swallow some fancy organic American meal. "I have an early meeting tomorrow at six in the morning over at Long Beach. I'll have to leave early to meet traffic." 

Victor can pretend this is a nice dinner. A nice date. It's too easy to see it like that, but it isn't a nice date. It's a dinner where the other party is expecting something out of Victor. 

"I'm going to be composing," says Victor, after a long moment of chewing. "I have a song stuck in my head, and I hope to get it out." 

Across the dining table, Yuuri nods. He uses his chopsticks to raise the braised lamb meat to his mouth. He does not talk with his mouth full, unfailingly polite and composed. "I hope to hear it when you're done." 

"You will," assures the omega. He stabs his carrot not-so-gently and chews. The utensil screeches against the plate and lands on the table with a clang, dropped messily. He stands up, the chair sliding away. Quietly, he declares, “I’m not very hungry. Going to bed.”

Clicking, Makkachin follows the omega upstairs to the master bedroom. She wags her tail, lolling her tongue as she settles against Victor’s body. 

The omega absentmindedly pet her head, lavishing kisses on her paws. Though Makkachin has once been a puppy, she has never outgrew her mentality of a lapdog. He coos at her, "You're a good girl, aren't you, Makkachin?"

The oversized poodle rolls over, sweet eyes begging for belly rubs. 

He laughs. Even if he hasn’t quite figured out what to do with Yuuri, he’s comforted by the fact that Makkachin will always be here with him. Come rain or shine, come hell or heaven. The poodle puts her head down on the omega’s lap, her eyes blinking sleepily. 

“Victor?” calls out the alpha, holding a few colorful boxes in his arms. He smiles upon seeing Makkachin and the omega. Yuuri strolls over to the makeup table and sets all the boxes down. His voice drops to a low whisper. “I have a few things for you and Makkachin.” 

The omega gently sits up, carefully and slowly to not disturb the poodle. Makkachin moves anyway, jumping off the bed to trot off somewhere else. Her gentle footfalls melts away, and Victor faces the smiling alpha. Yuuri's excitement is contagious; Victor could feel his stress fading away. 

“They had to ship it to me, because I left Northern California in a hurry,” he explains, raising an eyebrow at the omega as if to remind whose fault it was. He picks up the first wrapped box and presents it to Victor. “Please open it.”

“Is it a selfish gift?” wonders Victor, pushing away all his thoughts and feelings to the back of his mind. He could focus on Yuuri. He could focus on this moment, ignoring the blaring future. He could do this. He could unwrap the present, pull away the pretty bow, and see what’s hiding beneath the light pink tissue paper. He pauses at the beautiful silk scarf of deep blue thread with light golden sunflowers. It’s small, but it is distinctively a scarf. 

“This one is not really from me,” admits Yuuri, his cheeks reddening. “Phichit is starting a new line of clothes and footwear for pets. He already dressed up his large hamsters in little hats and everything, but he was hoping that you’ll have Makkachin wear this and post it on social media for some star boost.” A pause. “You don’t have to do anything, Victor.” 

“It’s cute!” Victor exclaims, his heart light as he lifts the scarf to examine the fabric. It’s so soft and delicate. The omega could easily picture it on Makkachin, who uncannily always knows the best angle for the camera. Of course, Makkachin looks good from  _ every _ angle of her face. 

The alpha smiles, returning to the table for another box. This box is slightly larger. “He also hopes you don’t mind a matching set, so you and Makkachin could coordinate later in the season.” There’s a distinctive Greek phi symbol printed on the side of the box. 

Victor laughs when it turns out to be a pattern reversal of Makkachin’s new scarf. Mostly made from golden silk thread, the scarf features coin-sized blue roses in bloom. “They both look so wonderful! I like his taste.” 

The alpha’s eyes darken, intense pheromones unfurling possessively. He sets down a box on the bed and asks, “But do you like my taste?” 

“Huh?” The omega blinks. 

Yuuri pushes away the boxes of scarves to an unused corner of the bed, as if making room for himself in regards to the omega's affection. Leaning forward, the alpha quickly captures Victor’s chin with his hand, his dark eyes thoroughly holding Victor’s attention. Dropping his voice into a purr, Yuuri wonders, “Do you like my taste, Victor?” Withdrawing his warm, possessive hand from Victor’s face, he opens a box and turns it around to show the omega. “I made it just for you.” 

Victor’s jaw drops at the sight of a pink knotting dildo with gold sparkles ingrained into the silicon. Every vein and ridge is so familiar despite the hot pink color, and his cunt instantly clenches around  _ nothing  _ when it could be so stuffed with something. He recognizes it, his mouth parting. “You made that?” The words come out more breathless than intended. 

Yuuri nods, his eyes so dark. “It took a few tries. I couldn’t get the knot right, and sometimes, I ruined the mould when I—” He gasps in surprise when Victor pulls him down to the bed. Weighing down the omega and pressing his hard erection against Victor’s stomach, he says, “I take it that you like it?” 

The omega nods, purring at the thought of a knotting dildo. It’s nothing compared to Yuuri’s actual knot, but when the alpha travels so much and the ultramarine dildo is the only thing keeping Victor entertained, a knotting dildo could help Victor immensely. It could keep him full and teeming far longer than Yuuri could, though it does not possess the same warmth nor could it stuff him deliciously full of the alpha's seed. 

Yuuri smiles, setting the box down onto the floor. He whispers, “You know, Victor. When I’m here, you don’t really need this.” He pauses, a hand sweeping underneath Victor’s v-neck to take ahold of his flesh, “But when I’m not, there’s no place better for your cunt than on this toy or the other toy I gave you.” His words trickle down Victor’s ears, dripping like the sweetest honey. He easily pulls off Victor’s shirt and tosses it aside in a great hurry, his mouth diving to suck at the omega’s pink nipple. 

Victor arches, moaning under Yuuri’s touch. He reaches out to Yuuri’s neck, wrapping around the alpha and clinging to him tightly as if he couldn’t bear to let him go. Every touch brings him closer to the cliff’s edge, every touch makes the world blurry enough that everything else fades away and leaves only Yuuri visible and vibrant in his eyes. 

He pulls away from the omega for a moment, leaving Victor breathless and starry-eyed. “The other three boxes have this. . .” He pauses, reverently kissing down Victor’s pecs and down to his hip bone. “One has chocolate and nuts. Sustainable and fair trade, I promise.” He bestows another kiss, breathing so close to Victor’s cocklet. “The second has earrings. Pearls found from the South Sea. Pearl in the shape of drops, which would look so beautiful on you, Victor.” He slips down Victor’s sweats and thong, tugging it off his legs. He doesn’t kiss any part of Victor, but instead glances intensely at the omega. “You’ll have to see the third yourself.” 

Before Victor could ask what the third box contains, he grabs ahold of Yuuri’s hair as the alpha swallows down his cocklet. 

He moans, arching as Yuuri blows him to greater heights. He doesn't miss the alpha swallowing every drop of slick Victor could give. He cherishes the powerful grip Yuuri wields on the omega's sides, the alpha so determined to receive every bit of slick with every single millimeter of the omega's cocklet in his hot mouth. 

Eyes round and dark with lust, Yuuri slowly slips off the cocklet. "I want to see," Yuuri says, his voice pitched low, "big round pearls on you. Iridescent pearls with a light pink glow over your body, Victor. Beads for me to play with." 

The omega shudders under the alpha's touch. The alpha slides a single finger into Victor's wet cunt, every inch so easily given to the alpha. 

"For this, there should be a photograph taken. Not a video," whispers Yuuri, his hot breath teasing away at skin of Victor’s thighs. "Definitely not a video. A video would have loud sounds drawing eyes away from what should be the center of attention. Too many words would come out of your lips. We both know how sweetly you beg, Victor, when you are in great need." 

Victor whimpers, feeling so empty. 

A second finger is added. Thrusting his fingers in and out, the alpha leans back to sit on his haunches. Victor’s fingers withdraw from the alpha’s hair. "Can you imagine what a masterpiece that photo be? I'll make sure to bring the right lens for a professional camera, Victor. The kind perfect for close ups. No details would be missed. After all, I'm the one photographing,” he murmurs, kissing away at Victor’s old stretch marks on his outer leg. “No one will be allowed to ever see you in person like this. Only me, Victor.” 

Purring under the alpha’s unhurried treatment, Victor loves the idea of the alpha taking pictures  _ of him.  _ How risque they would be. Yuuri, in his demand for nothing less than perfection, would make sure everything is flawless, faultless. The lighting, the pearls, the setting, the very angle the camera has of Victor. There will be dozens upon dozens of perfectly round pearls, perhaps all the same size and shape, none of them unique enough in appearance. Not too many pearls to distract the eyes of the beholder from seeing Victor but enough pearls to not be missed. Enough so Victor’s beauty could be seen and complemented by the ornate pearls. 

Yuuri’s words flow over him, slow and seductive as the alpha paints a scene with just his words, an artist in his own right. “It’s the kind of photo that would be too scandalous to put up in a living room. Much more fitting for the master bedroom,” he purrs, his fingers slipping away as the hardness of his cock presses against Victor’s leaking cocklet. “Can you imagine it, Victor? Sometimes, when I travel too far to be by your side, I’ll stare at that photograph and make myself come, my seed splattering all over the frame.” 

Victor’s eyes close, looking away from his alpha. 

Yuuri continues, unaware of the turmoil boiling underneath Victor’s skin. He pushes inside of Victor’s tight channel, his hands coming up to grasp at the omega’s shoulders. He gently pecks at the corner of the omega’s lips, his thrusts starting off shallow and unfailingly considerate. “That’s what a photograph of you with pearls would be like, Victor.” 

Staring up at the ceiling and tightening his grip around the alpha’s flexing back muscles, Victor can’t help but think the truth. It’s not what that photograph would be like. That photograph is akin to an expensive, paid, pornographic photo anyone could find within two seconds of googling the web. Yes, none of the people in the results would be Agape, but the end is just the same, isn’t it? Yuuri gets his rocks off and is quite satisfied with his knot popped. 

A sugar daddy doesn’t give anything meaningful in gifts to a sugar baby, no matter how beautiful or talented or amazing the sugar baby may be. It’s the way a sugar relationship works. Victor knows this well ever since he considered a sugar relationship to help pay for college tuition at Juilliard five years ago. 

Even though Yuuri said a long time ago that those gifts do not require or demand or expect anything in return, Victor knows the truth. This relationship is never meant to go any further. No matter how sweet or pretty or pleasing Yuuri's words are. 

Yuuri’s thrusts comes to a pause. “Victor?”

“It doesn’t mean anything. None of this means anything,” Victor says, tears spilling down his face. His vision blurs with his tears, and he shakes his head at the alpha. He could smell the troubled pheromones wafting towards him, his own distressed scent meeting it in return. “It means nothing.” In a stronger voice, he orders, “Get out.” 

“Victor,” whispers Yuuri, hands reaching for the omega. 

“Get out!” 

Yuuri makes no further protest, drawing himself out of Victor and then retrieving his clothes. Victor doesn't know if Yuuri looked back. 

Victor can’t voice the devastating, surprising pain he finds in his chest. Makkachin quickly finds herself at his side, whining besides him. He wraps his arms around his faithful poodle and whispers, feeling the rawness of something essential being ripped out of his soul, “What have I done?” 

It's already too late now to change a thing. 

He briefly wonders if it's better to have lived knowing Yuuri. . . Or lived without ever knowing him at all. 


	21. Masturbation ft. Sex Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Begging</strike> | <strike>Xenophilia</strike> | <strike>Lactation</strike> | Masturbation

Victor wakes up with his skin figuratively on fire, no nest surrounding him. With a flash, Victor remembers exactly why. It's the heat suppressants he failed to take. He expected Yuuri to be here to see him through his heat. But Yuuri is not here. He pants, throwing the covers off. There's the smell of Russian food wafting from the kitchen. 

He whimpers. It's the chef cooking, not Yuuri. 

He knows he has emergency suppressants kept somewhere in the house, but his mind is so terribly fuzzy under the haze of his heat. 

He sits up, hands and body moving on instincts. The sheets become the walls of his nest, and he collects his spare, clean comforters from the closet. He piles up eight pillows all over the bed, and then he curls himself against the comforters, too hot to be underneath the layers. He whines, smelling faint scents of cherry blossoms and ice. Yuuri’s scent isn’t strong enough, several hours old. 

His hand grasps around his cocklet, desperate for friction. Slick leaks from its slit, so wanting despite the lack of an alpha. His pheromones spiral madly, as if trying to beckon Yuuri even from so many miles away, from wherever he has gone now. Yuuri won’t be able to tell Victor is in heat. Yuuri won’t be able to know. Yuuri can’t possibly smell Victor’s heat, and even then— 

It’s too late. 

Even if he knew. 

He strokes his cocklet, his cunt clenching around nothing. He feels himself growing closer and closer to his release, over to the cliff’s edge. Whining, he throws his head back against the pillows as he quickens the pace. It takes only an embarrassing amount of time before he comes, perhaps no less than three minutes since he’s started, Victor’s heat demanding nothing but an all-encompassing, fulfilled satisfaction he’ll never be able to find without Yuuri. 

Slick spurts messily over his fingers. 

It’s not enough. 

He shoves two fingers deep inside himself, his back arching as he frantically fucks his channel. The heat is sated and then roaring at him, screaming for something to fill his empty hole, something like a knot. 

Knot. 

His slick-stained fingers pull out of his wet channel as he rolls over on the bed, cocklet instinctively grinding against the soft sheets for friction. He wants more. He needs more. Hobbling as he steps down from the mattress, he shakily sets up the machine. It takes more time than usual, and Victor nearly gives up from the difficulty of the setup. 

He plugs the machine into the wall outlet with a sigh and then dumps the entire box of dildos onto his bed. He eyes them all, judging the shape and size. There is always a wide selection for him to choose from. There’s the black one with all the ridges and textures, so perfect for nailing his prostate. He also previously enjoyed the large knotting dildo, the one that he once used too much in one night and couldn’t really dance the next day at his concert. But it is none of he bought over the years that he chooses. He picks up the ultramarine dildo, partially winking at him from underneath half a dozen other toys. 

He’s so pathetic. 

If only they could all see him now, just hung up on one stupid alpha who would never give him the _ more _ in a relationship. Or even a relationship. There are millions upon millions of alphas and betas and omegas who love him and cherish him, who always remember his birthdays and Makkachin’s birthdays and wish him well on all the holidays on a calendar. But he only has eyes for one alpha. 

He secures it on the outstretching rod and then climbs onto the bed, crawling and adjusting his position on all fours. He feels himself quickly adjusting around the toy as it bottoms out. It hurts to imagine Yuuri here with him. But his heat demands him to picture someone when the mechanical movement of every thrust of the fucking machine gives him no true pleasure, the kind of pleasure that sends his toes curling in delight and his cunt so full and sated and brimming with seed. Yuuri’s seed. 

He tells himself to imagine what Yuuri would do if he’s here right with Victor at this very moment. He closes his eyes, hearing Yuuri’s words in his mind. 

_ “Don’t you dare keep your eyes off me.” _

Victor cries out, the dildo riding hard against his prostate. He grabs his own cocklet, frantically stroking and pretending it’s Yuuri behind him and his cock thrusting into his cunt. Yuuri, though. Yuuri wouldn’t let him take control of his own pleasure. 

No, Yuuri with an ocean of possessiveness and fierce will wouldn’t allow Victor to do that. He would hold the omega’s wrists and tease him until he comes and maybe even after that. 

Every moment will send the omega closer to the edge as the alpha gently touches, kisses, and brushes Victor’s skin. The alpha enjoys drawing out every moment for it’s not the quick release that is pleasurable but slow, steady delay that pulls out a devastatingly wonderful orgasm that could send his vision blinding and alight as he rides high on his climax. 

Victor murmurs, mouth stuffed into the sheets and words all muffled, “Good things come to those who wait.” 

He fumbles for the remote control, setting the pace for the fucking machine a notch higher. He could almost imagine it’s Yuuri’s cock drilling deep into him. Almost fool himself into thinking that Yuuri is right here, watching his every move. He could almost convince himself— 

“Alpha,” he cries, begging. “Alpha, please.”

_ “Can you tell me what you learned today?” _

“Good things come to those who wait,” he cries out, rolling his hips against the dildo and meeting nothing but air and the thrusting toy. “Please, Yuuri, let me come. Please.” 

The pace quickens, hitting deep and fast into Victor’s cunt. 

The climax briefly satisfies the omega before his body desperately clenching around the still-thrusting dildo, as if expecting a knot. Whining quietly, the omega hits the stop button and rolls off the dildo. He looks at the floor, reaching down to retrieve the fancy wooden box. 

He’s so pathetic. 

With both hands, he takes ahold of the silicon replica of Yuuri’s knot. A fantastically pink knotting dildo that Victor deeply appreciates as it sinks into his sopping hole and fills him so well. Though there is no seed, when Victor closes his eyes and wraps his arms around the largest pillow, he could still pretend that it’s his alpha buried in his cunt.

* * *

Later, he hears gentle footfalls pause at his closed door. The scent of a concerned omega wafts through the little gap under the door. The chef, a professional middle-aged woman who also works part time at an expensive European restaurant downtown, knocks on the door. She calls out, “Mr. Victor? I have your brunch on the cart outside. Do you need me to call Mr. Katsuki?”

“No,” shouts Victor, panic not entirely contained in his voice. 

“Do you need me to come in?”

“I’ll be alright,” he replies, trying to muster enough control on his voice. He tries to sound as neutral and sane as possible while clenching around a knotting dildo. 

"Do you have your cell phone with you?" 

"Yes," he answers. 

"What percent?"

Victor checks, grabbing it from the nightstand and biting back a gasp at the dildo's sudden press against his prostate. "Uh, seventy-nine." 

She pauses. "I have emergency suppressants pills on the cart if you need, Mr. Victor. I'll be leaving for my shift soon. I'll be back before six. Call me anytime you need assistance." 

"Thank you, Eleanor." 

He hears her shuffle away.

* * *

“Victor?”

“Cancel all my shows, bookings, everything,” Victor demands, not even playing at politeness. He’s too impatient and grouchy after swallowing down the emergency suppressants, and they’re actively working against his heat. 

Chris pauses. “For how long?” 

“Indefinitely,” Victor answers, hanging up the phone. 

* * *

The first call comes from Yuuri that same evening. Slowly eating through his masterfully presented dinner and tasting none of the spices or flavors, he watches the phone vibrate over and over again. He lets it go to voicemail. 

It happens again.

And again. 

He ignores every single call. The alpha tries Victor for two weeks. Two whole weeks. Victor always stands by his phone, watching the name of _ Yuuri Katsuki _flashing over and over his phone’s screen. He never picks up. 

Yuuri stops calling. 

That’s when the gifts start arriving. 

Every day, every morning, there’s something new. Something Victor has never seen before. A fancy scarf made in South America, tickets to an opera, a donation certificate to small businesses in impoverished areas of the world in Victor’s name, a letter from a teacher in India thanking Victor for the donation of books and materials to a small underfunded elementary school, a tourist’s paperweight from Tokyo, a pair of doggy boots for Makkachin. 

That’s when Victor stops accepting gifts, realizing that every single one is simply encouraging Yuuri. So he begins to turn away the delivery men and women, carrying boxes and packages of different sizes and shapes. 

“Look, I don’t have a return address for this,” stammers the delivery woman on Day 23. She’s a new one. Someone Victor has never seen before. “I only have a name and a phone number, sir!” 

“Then donate it or toss it or keep it. I don’t care,” replies Victor, leaning against the doorway. “But I’m not signing that.” 

Every single delivery requires Victor’s signature. 

He supposes it’s the alpha’s way of knowing whether or not he actually accepted his packages. Well, now he knows that Victor isn’t. 

Then there’s the flower girl on Day 43. 

“You don’t understand,” she frantically cries. The omega girl shakes in horror, the expensive box of roses crushed under her grip. “Agape, do you know how expensive these are? They’re—” Her words become indecipherable. She doesn’t understand. 

He finds an article later in _ People _ eagerly describing the story later.

> **Agape: New Beau Courting the Pop God?**
> 
> An unnamed employee at a specialty flower shop reported the Pop God’s insistent request to not accept a courting gift valued at $25,000. The award-winning artist, who hasn’t released any songs in the last two years nor made a public appearance for almost two months, is not active on social media. Despite countless hours of manpower to search for a hint of the poor alpha or beta who’s courting this hard-to-get omega, _ People _has discovered that this is not the first of gifts to be rejected by Agape. 
> 
> The local FedEx store ended up renting a storage room to accommodate all the rejected gifts. "Look," said an anonymous FedEx employee, who doesn't want to be named in case of termination for speaking with us, "this isn't the first time an alpha has sent like a thousand gifts to an omega who keeps rejecting them all. We usually keep them all unless they're perishable. But I opened one package just out of curiosity. Some alphas and betas are really cheap at courting gifts, and I wanted to know what this alpha kept sending to Agape. It was a variety of things. But the box I opened had a violin case. Inside that case is a bloody Stradivarius. You know how expensive that crazy thing is?" 
> 
> Agape, whose lesser known talent includes the violin, is courted by a rich alpha with no shortage of money to splash around. A Stradivarius violin, which has been said to be superior to violins of today, is valued in the millions. 
> 
> When asked if there is anything else the employee has found, he answered, "Well, I did look at another package. It wasn't really a package, but FedEx was ordered to deliver a huge custom statue of a poodle made in Italy or something like that. Yes, it's that dog. A marble poodle statue of Agape's dog." 
> 
> As for the flower shop employee, they revealed why the flowers cost so much. "They're blue Juliet roses. They're not found in the wild. They have to be grown in a lab, and they're so delicate but beautiful. If you go out and try to buy a bush, it cost ten thousand or more." 
> 
> To whoever the alpha is, we here at _ People _ wish you all the best luck we can give.

* * *

His phone rings. The name of _ Yakov Feltsman _does not send any alarms blaring in the omega’s head. This time, Victor hits the green accept button. 

Silence. Yakov does not speak.

“Hello?” he says. 

Silence. 

“Hello?” Victor wonders if this is his idea of a prank call. 

Sounding somewhat dazed, Yakov replies, “You actually picked up.”

“Yes?”

“Five years you’ve spent ignoring every one of my calls,” says Yakov, his low voice bent with frustration and annoyance. “And now you have finally decided to answer.” 

“I was bored.” 

“You canceled all of your shows and appearances and no longer possess a busy schedule,” points out Yakov. “But the point is this, Vitya. I’ve been hounding you for the last five years for one reason only. Two reasons, to be precise. Finish your last assignments from Juilliard and actually graduate with your degrees.” 

“I thought I dropped out?”

“You disappeared and decided to hop onto a plane to LA. Dropping out requires more paperwork, and I have defended you from the Board of Governors and petitioned that you may one day decide to show back up at Juilliard to complete your final examinations due to extenuating circumstances.” His voice sounds pained, as if arguing that excuse took far more effort than Victor was worth. 

Victor pauses at that, his mind considering. “I’ll think about it, Yakov. I’ve been in the middle of things.”

_ “Da. _Farewell for now, Vitya. Be in touch.”

* * *

It's Day 78, in the second week of September, when Victor wakes up to the doorbell ringing. He silently vows to disable it every day, but he never does. He leans against the doorway, expecting to do the same song and dance over and over again. 

"I don't want it," says Victor, speaking before the delivery man could even breathe. He doesn't recognize this person, but he figures it may be someone new. "Throw it away, return it, I don't care." 

The delivery man scratches his head. He nervously taps his feet. "Well, Agape, I think you do want to accept this one," he says, shuffling the thick envelope from one hand to another. "I'm from Sony," he adds, chuckling awkwardly. "I read on the internet all about your alpha problem. It’s sounds quite relentless." 

Victor quickly holds out his hand for the envelope, his heart racing. He ignores the comment about Yuuri. "Sony?" 

The rotund alpha nods. "Yeah, Sony. I'm the senior assistant to the CEO. In case you didn't recognize me. I know you're very busy with meetings," he laughs, taking out a handkerchief to wipe away the sweat. "Can I have an autograph? I'm such a big fan of yours." 

One signature later and the assistant leaves. Victor closes the door behind him, a finger slipping under the envelope's flap to tear it open. 

A huge familiar contract is pulled out. It's the exact original one Victor signed five years ago. The one that made him Agape. The one that is connected to the predatory producer and the one that rips Victor off every time someone buys his music. 

A bright red _ VOID _ is stamped on every page.

* * *

Three minutes later, he opens the door to the familiar FedEx delivery man and declares, "I still haven't changed my mind." 

He slams the door in his face. 

Quickly pulling up Chris' contact page, he calls his manager, diving onto the sofa in the parlour. Lounging on the sofa, Makkachin doesn't even flinch at the omega's sudden intrusion, her tail wagging against the cushion. Without missing a beat, he says, "Chris, is this true? Is it really voided?" 

"Yes, yes," laughs Chris. "It's really dead now, Victor." 

The omega hugs Makkachin in pure excitement, truly happy for the first time in forever. "How did this happen? My lawyer told me last week, there is no way I'm getting out of this without releasing a few more albums for them." 

"Well, I was there earlier for JJ's contract renewal and then the Sony CEO came up to me, so I could speak for you on your behalf. He literally said that the contract is voided. That's it." 

"That's it?" 

"I did hear a little more from his junior assistant. Because she likes me a lot." 

Victor rolls his eyes. "Chris, get on with it." 

"The request to void came from higher up." 

"What do you mean higher up?" 

Chris clarifies, "I mean, higher up. You know how Sony Music Entertainment is owned by Sony Corporation. That's what I mean. The request came from Sony Corporation who directed the CEO specifically to void your contract." 

"That's impossible," Victor vehemently states. "Why would they care about one contract?" 

Chris stays silent. 

"Chris?" 

He sighs. "Don't get mad, Victor." 

The omega's stomach flips. "What do you mean by that, Chris?" 

"Yuuri called me like a month ago, because he was running out of ideas of what to get you. He asked what would make you happy and I said that unless he got nine hundred million dollars to buyout your contract to Sony, he can't make you truly happy. He hanged up right away, so I didn't think he would do it," admits Chris. "I didn't think he has that kind of money, and I thought he would back off." 

"He made Sony voided it. I know it," says Victor, hands clenching around the contract. It looks so ugly now, stained and tainted. "I'm sure he has that kind of power." 

Chris sighs again. 

"What?" 

"Would it really hurt to call him, Victor? He wants to stay away but not too far from you, so he keeps getting you things in hopes you'll finally talk to him. He's been around in California for the last three months. It's the longest he's ever stayed at one time." A pause. Chris adds, "He doesn't look happy at our weekly pole dancing class." 

Victor ends the call without another word. 

It takes a few hours for the omega to work up the courage and strength to hit the call button. Yuuri picks up in an instant. 

"Hello?" 

Hesitating, Victor replies, "Hi, Yuuri." 

He could hear the alpha breathe, distinctive sounds of cars honking in the background. Yuuri’s driving, perhaps in the city right now. And then he says, "Victor, I know that you have all the rights to never speak to me again. But please listen to this question carefully. Are you listening?"

Victor murmurs, "Yes." 

"Are we ending our courtship?" 

Victor's taken aback. _ "Courtship?" _

The alpha slowly says, "This is a courtship, Victor. Like what you've told me before." 

"I said what?" exclaims the omega, reeling.

Yuuri mutters some Japanese curse words under his breath. "Are you at home, Victor? I think this is best explained in person."


	22. Costumes or Mask ft. One Night Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Licking</strike> | Costumes or Mask | <strike>Small Dick Humiliation</strike> | <strike>Dacryphilia</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, and welcome to the most plot heavy chapter of all, lmao.

_ Yuuri Katsuki _

**5 Years Ago**

Resisting a yawn, he scrolls through his social media accounts and finds nothing but a few memes posted by the interns to trash talk the amount of hours they work and the work they do for the firm. Yuuri, unlike other senior partners of the firm, doesn't really care too much about what the interns do in their free time. He was once an intern under his father's tutelage. He talked poor Vicchan's ear off with all his "bitching," which was what Mari once called it. 

"You need to wear something," shouts Phichit from the bathroom. "Something that has a color and could pass off as a costume!"

"Clark Kent. Forgot his super suit at home," replies Yuuri, wearing his usual tailored suit sans wool vest and suit jacket. 

Dropping something made of glass, Phichit screeches, "It's not a Halloween party, Yuuri! This is the party celebrating the renewal of my contract as the Face of Calvin Klein. Thought I had to go to the parking lot to fight Seung-gil over the Face of Asia. Did you hear he's representing Tom Ford for a year now?" 

Slightly concerned about the renewal contract, he asks, "You had the lawyers go over the renewal, right?" 

"Yup," cheerfully declares the alpha. "They said it's one of the best contracts they've seen." 

Yuuri nods. "That's good." Something soft and cotton lands on his head. Not bothering to take it off, he asks, "Phichit, what is this?" 

"A costume so you can go dress as the handsome Greek God Apollo, Lord of the Sun." 

"I'm putting a three-piece suit on," declares Yuuri. He yanks the toga off his head and tosses it onto a nearby armchair. "I'm not wearing a bedsheet!" 

"Fine. But wear a suit of a different color. Other than black." 

Yuuri doesn't move. He plans to put his vest and suit jacket back on instead of wearing a bedsheet. It's expected to get colder at night in New York City. And he isn't dumb or drunk enough to wear so little. 

Opening up Twitter, he types out a tweet: _ Go to a club party, they say. It'll be fun, they say. _ Then he hits the send button. In almost an instant, a brown nosing intern has already liked and then retweeted. 

"I saw that!" yells Phichit. 

It takes twenty more minutes for Phichit to finally choose an outfit with the exact matching makeup that both compliments his features and highlights his cheekbones. Of course, Yuuri can't really blame him. The crowd of reporters and photographers demand Phichit to look and dress his best. In Yuuri's line of work, as long as he doesn't wear something shabby and cheap and clearly off the rack, he plays into his reputation and is always able to find clients. Clothes maketh the man, after all. 

Which is why he uses that defense in front of Phichit when he stands at the front door, ready to slay at the club in a custom three-piece suit. "If any of my interns catch me shit-faced drunk in a bedsheet, I'm refusing any future party invitation from you." 

The Thai alpha pouts. "You haven't partied since college. Since. . ." The alpha quickly calculates, "Since 2008's financial crash! Is that why you haven't been answering any of my phone calls?" 

Yuuri nods. "The firm was in a bad shape. We had to change our name. It took years to rebuild our client list." 

He doesn't tell Phichit any further details. The 2008 financial crash, in which the housing bubble exploded, was a living nightmare. Prior to 2008, the firm's senior partners hired their unqualified children and close relatives instead of qualified candidates who could have seen the devastating crash a mile away. Yuuri has already been working for the firm for four years, one of those as an unpaid intern. His father has already left the firm before the crash, but it was Minako-sensei who supported Yuuri's decision to develop his career. It took a year to boot out the incompetent senior partners who were peddling bad investments and agreements to clients, six months to fix the in-house law department and fire outdated lawyers, and eight months for accounting to trace the money to find all those senior partners who have been stealing hundreds of thousands of American dollars on the side over the years and organize the books so there is far more transparency. 

He became a junior partner in 2010, and Minako put in so many bylaws to make the firm honest and dismissed two thirds of the senior partners, if they hadn't already retired or quit. He made senior partner just last month for his unusual knack to put together successful contracts and draw in dozens and dozens of clients. At 31, he's the youngest senior partner in the firm's history. The number of senior partners rise and fall, but the low numbers following the exodus of 12 senior partners made Minako uneasy enough to promote two junior partners to seniors. Furthermore, no one really wanted to join Lu and Associates Consulting with all the bad rep and reviews despite the downturn in the economy. 

"We're here!" Dressed as the Thai King from his favorite movie, Phichit looks out of the limousine's tinted window and turns to the other alpha. "I'll leave first and then the driver is going to park. If you want to avoid flashes, you should stay in the car—" 

Yuuri opens the door, ignoring the flashes of light in his face. He hears the muttering of the disappointed paparazzi, but they do not bother him any further in favor of rapidly photographing Phichit. He clears pass the line of people just waiting to get into the club and walks to the bouncers, who merely glance up and down at his tailored suit before stepping aside to allow him into the club. 

A bouncer speaks up, "Sir, the VIP section is up the stairs on your right. Please have a wonderful night at The Blue Vogue." 

"Thanks," mutters Yuuri. He finds a secluded spot upstairs and orders a ridiculously expensive watered-down cocktail that shouldn't cost a hundred dollars to buy. Around him are rising stars and supermodels in the fashion industry, all smiling, laughing, and talking. No one is dancing, yet. 

“Ah, found you!” exclaims Phichit, setting down two beers and a champagne bottle. “So it turns out that people who did not RSVP to my party have crashed my party without wearing costumes.” He sounds mildly irritated, as if he couldn’t decide which is the worst offence.

Yuuri laughs. “If they came in without RSVP, then they wouldn’t have received your invitation. Who are they?” 

Tapping his finger on the table, the alpha answers, “A bunch of college kids from Juilliard. I’m a little offended they’re drinking my homebrew vodka without thanking me.” He gestures towards a gaggle of people who aren’t remotely dressed in any sort of costume. 

Yuuri pulls out his phone. “I could find the security number for the club.” 

“Nah, we crashed plenty of parties when we were in college back in the day. It’s karma coming back to bite us in the butt,” says Phichit, waving his concerns away. “But I’m disappointed they aren’t going to thank me for free booze.”

“Hey, we hid from the host whenever we crashed a frat party,” points out Yuuri, reaching for the beer. He uncaps it and takes a slow sip. He sets the beer down to find Phichit giving him one of the so-familiar meddling looks he has received so many times during their college years. Immediately, he declares, “No.” 

Phichit gasps. “You don’t even know what I’m asking for.”

“I know you.” 

“But.”

“No.

“Yuuri,” sings Phichit. “Come on, let loose. The firm is secured, and there isn’t any law court on this planet concerned about a court case involving your firm. You got your client list’s numbers back to pre-2008 levels. I don’t know what else are you asking for. I just invited you here, so you could take your mind off of trying to put Samsung and whatever manufacturing factory together to make a smart refrigerator.” Despite the smile Phichit wears, there’s an undertone of hurt in his words. 

It makes Yuuri realize how much of an asshole he’s been all night to his very best friend. He immediately apologizes, “I’m sorry. I'm. . .” His voice trails off. 

"Busy, tired, working all the time," Phichit fills in. "But I just want you to let loose for once. Be reminded of the fact there's a world out there you haven't been living in for over five years. Like when's the last time you've gone a bar that wasn't really a business meeting?" 

"Years," Yuuri admits. He sighs, taking his glasses off and then putting them into his pocket. He pulls out his cell phone and turns it off, handing it over to the other alpha who’s beaming with approval. Then he puts in his contacts while Phichit gives a little cheer and whistle of approval. 

“You know, we have stripper poles with no strippers,” says Phichit, winking cheekily. 

Running a hand through his hair with a familiar feeling of annoyance, he tells the other alpha, “In absolutely no circumstances am I doing that sober in front of all these people, Phichit. And if there are any pictures, I'm blaming you." 

Phichit laughs. "Okay, then don't go too far. But enough to liven up the party." He opens up his own beer bottle and knocks it against Yuuri’s. “Cheers!” 

He eventually downs the entire bottle after thirty minutes all while eating the complimentary pub mix. He’s not even buzzed, but he’s relaxed enough to teach a Victoria's Secret model and her boyfriend how to dance the waltz properly to a fast electronic beat. She ends up dragging some of her other friends over to learn some other dance forms. He demonstrates some breakdancing moves just for their entertainment, quietly thankful that no one is taking out their phones to take pictures of him with his tie, suit jacket, and vest long gone. He thinks the interns will never live it down, the astounding fact that senior partner Yuuri Katsuki once taught random models and supermodels how to twerk. 

He even gives some dance advice to a model who asked how she could dance tap better. “Eat more, gain some more weight. Salads aren’t enough,” he says, shouting over the fast-paced pop remix. “It’ll help you last longer when you dance on stage!” 

He has never seen someone cry so quickly with happiness. 

“I could finally eat more,” she sobs joyfully, ignoring her facial makeup as a sexy humanoid Bambi of all things. She kisses both sides of his face, air kissing with delight. Turning away, she melts away into the crowd. 

He gets herded to the side by the dancing crowd. Wiping away the sweat, he notices a bouncer harassing a group of young adults who aren't dressed up for Phichit's party. The college crashers, he determines. 

Making his way forward, he raises his voice. "Hey, what's going on here?" 

The bouncer turns around. "Ah, just a few crashers. We have security—" 

Feeling the surprised looks from the gaggle of college students, Yuuri interrupts, "They're fine. Let them stay." 

"But Mr—" 

"Phichit doesn't mind. He says the more the merrier." Dismissing the bouncer with a tilt of his head, he kindly smiles at the college students. "Don't get in trouble, okay? Then I really can't come by to bail you all out." 

They collectively nod. 

Remembering a thought, he adds, "Enjoy the party. Be sure to thank Phichit Chulanont for the party and congratulate him for getting his contract renewed. He's very happy about it." 

Once he gets their agreement, he turns away and eyes the three shiny poles on stage. He taps his feet and then proceeds to scan the dance floor for Phichit. He's been here probably long enough for politeness' sake, and parties aren't his forte. 

He suddenly pivots, crashing into a body. The first thing he notices about the other person is his scent, soft and floral, rich with the smell of roses. An omega, he determines easily, his alpha side perking up in interest. The second thing he sees is the long, uniquely silver hair flowing behind the omega's face. Cyan eyes glow in the dark, lit up by flashing lights of the club. 

"I'm sorry!" he cries out. "Are you okay?" 

It takes merely a second for Yuuri to realize it's one of the college party crashers. 

"I'm okay," the omega says, nodding. He pauses, once recognition strikes him. "Oh, you're the one who saved us from getting kicked! Thank you for that!" 

"Not a problem," Yuuri replies, stunned by the omega's beauty and his gorgeous flawless skin and that one _ scent _Yuuri knows will haunt his dreams tonight. "I hope you enjoy the party tonight." 

The omega chuckles. "Actually, I'm about to leave. They" - he gestures towards his friends - "dragged me here. But other than that amazing drink made by Phichit, there's no reason for me to stay." 

Yuuri pauses, his brain a few steps behind his mouth. "Dance with me." 

"What?" 

"Never mind." Yuuri quickly covers himself and turns away before his mouth could get better of him. "Sorry, excuse me." 

A hand catches him by the wrist. "No, I don't mind," the omega breathes. "I'll dance with you." 

A fast-paced sexy Spanish song comes on, perfect for the tango. In a moment, Yuuri has the omega in his arms, laughing when they actually get their moves and footwork synchronized. The omega obviously has some background and formal training in dance. 

"I want to court you," he announces, breathless. Tongue speaking before the brain. 

The omega smiles, eyes shining in delight. Seductively like a god of the old, he purrs, "I'll let you. If you can catch me." 

The next moment finds them huddling together in the corner booth, secluded from everything else. They talk, ignoring the rest of the club. 

"I'm learning violin and opera from Juilliard," the omega reveals, cheeks flushing. "I'm double major. Studying under the current greatest tenor, Yakov Feltsman." 

Yuuri has heard of Yakov. "That's impressive. His students go far and wide. They've performed at Eurovision and the Kennedy Center." 

Tucking a silver strand behind his ear, the omega asks, "So what do you do?" 

"Consulting," he answers. "I also dabble a little at investing." 

"So a businessman," purrs the omega. 

"Yes," confirms Yuuri. 

The omega licks his lips, the droplet of water cleanly wiped away by a pink tongue. His eyes draw Yuuri in, like a moth to a blazing flame. "I like you, Yuuri," he softly admits, face an inch away from the alpha. 

The alpha smiles at that. "I hope you do." 

It takes only a moment for the omega to make the first move. Soft, gentle lips meet Yuuri's. The alpha notes the omega distantly taste of strawberries, and he deepens the kiss, eager for more. 

Beautiful, bruised fingers unbutton every button on Yuuri's shirt, and in another second, the omega tears his pants off, desperately digging his nails into Yuuri's back. 

It's reckless he knows. 

They haven't known each other for more than an hour, and Yuuri is fumbling with the condom the omega supplied and sinking his cock deep into the omega's warm, tight cunt. 

Every moan he draws from the omega's lips sounds like the most beautiful of songs he's ever heard. For every thrust he gives to the omega, the omega pushes back, as if unable to get enough of Yuuri. 

"Knot, give me your knot," he pants, back pushed hard into the seats. "I want to feel it tomorrow." 

He growls. "You'll feel more than that. You'll still feel my seed dripping out of you." 

The omega's walls clenches on his cock so hard he thinks he might have passed gone, leaving for a heaven on earth. Yuuri comes, condom filling up with his seed. He resists a knot. 

"No knot?" whines the omega. 

He kisses the omega's shoulder, the taste of this omega branded into his memory. "I'm sorry. I don't think you'll want a knot here." 

The omega nods, whining as he pull himself off the alpha's cock and quickly putting his clothes back on. "You're right. Let's go find a taxi? Let me take you to my apartment." 

Outside, on the chilly streets, one of the omega's fellow college peers interrupts them. "Hey, Nik, your dogsitter called. They can't watch her right now. You have to pick her up." 

The omega looks so crestfallen, his heart tugged between Yuuri and his dog. 

Yuuri makes the choice for him. "Pick up your dog. Give me your number" - he pats his pocket, unable to find his phone with a soft curse - "Or umm. . ." 

The friend manages to find a piece of paper and a pen from her purse. She hands it over the omega. Then she waves her phone and yells out, "I'm going to pick up my car. Have to drive to New Jersey. Night!" 

Bent over to write on the taxi's hood, the omega scribbles something. 

The alpha tries not to focus too hard on his ass, which is clinged so nicely by a pair of tight jeans. It's beautiful and round, and any more staring will earn Yuuri a charge of public indecency. 

The omega shoves the paper into the alpha's pocket with a wink and waves goodbye. "Court me, Yuuri!" 

Smiling at the taxi driving away from the curb, he walks back to the club, planning on retrieving his phone from Phichit. He pulls out the slip of paper the omega wrote on. His smile quickly drops as he reads the note. 

He pivots, scanning to find the taxi, but it's already long gone. 

_ Come get me if you want to court me. XOXOXO _

* * *

He doesn't even know the omega's name, once sobriety knocked around his brain. He doesn't even know where he lives. All he knows is that he's studying opera and the violin at Juilliard, and that short of quitting his job as a senior partner and being a creepy stalker, there's no way to actually find him. 

So he pushes the omega into the back of his head, quietly increasing his annual donation to the Kennedy Center in hopes of meeting Yakov Feltsman. He's been a donor for years thanks to Minako who taught him how to love and appreciate the arts. But this year's increase is more than enough to put him into the VIP section. 

He ends up being thanked by someone important and claps politely at the performances, disappointed that he couldn't find the omega anywhere in the crowd. 

It's one year after the club party when Vicchan passed away and he hears his voice on the radio in England. It’s unmistakably the omega’s voice, every word and verse crooning about the most beautiful poodle in the world. Her name is Makkachin. 

At the end of the song, the radio host says, “Isn’t that amazing? That song always reminds me of my dog at home. Such a good boy, that Rex. Not a poodle, though.” He laughs. “Anyway, that’s the new hit song from up-and-coming pop artist, Agape.” 

Agape, Yuuri thinks, rolling the name around his tongue. Greek. One of the forms of love, unconditional love. 

He waits until after the video conference to look up Agape on Google. He finds him in an instant, a small but growing Wikipedia page dedicated to the pop artist. 

He watches Agape's meteoric rise to the top of all the song charts, watches when his records go gold, platinum, and then diamond. He travels around the globe, more aware than ever before of his frantic schedule and the growing instability of the stock market since the new American President took office. Clients called him more and more. He passed a few onto his partners and the easier ones to the junior partners. 

He buys an extravagant house in Beverly Hills in cash, easily picturing the omega here at home. He looks through his contact book for a trusted contractor to make the necessary changes to meet his specifications. 

He runs into Yakov Feltsman at last in the Boston Conservatory after a performance and manages a brief conversation, mostly forced by Yuuri's hand.

He taps on the alpha’s shoulder and begins to speak when Yakov focuses his attention on him. "Mr. Feltsman, the Russian Pavarotti,” he exclaims, sounding quite pleased to meet him. “I’ve heard many good things about you.”

“Mr. Katsuki,” the Russian alpha says, his face completely stoic. He tightly clasps Yuuri’s hand in a handshake. “I know this is rather late, but let me extend my appreciation. I would like to thank you for your kind donation this year for the Kennedy Center. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.” 

Yuuri laughs. “No, I must really thank you for teaching the performers for this year. They’ve achieved what they have sought out to do and more,” he praises, smiling politely at the other alpha. He pauses, changing the subject, “I have heard that Agape was your student at Juilliard.”

The alpha nods, not even changing his expression. “Agape is one of the most talented students I’ve ever taught.”

Yuuri hums in agreement. In his opinion, Agape is the most talented student Yakov Feltsman has ever taught. 

The other alpha, after a moment of silence, adds, “You know, Mr. Katsuki, I hate pop music. I hate that sort of culture in America, where all the children seem to be about electronic music and autotune. Though I’m disappointed by his change from the opera and the violin to pop music and his attachment to autotune, I’m glad that he still continues to write music and inspire the next generation of artists."

* * *

He ends up finding Agape accidentally again, having not expected to see him perform that year. Accidentally like the first time they met. In the restroom of all places possible at the Kennedy Center Honors after Yuuri missed a morning dose in suppressants because of an emergency conference over a manufacturing issue. 

He worries when the omega doesn't call him right away. Does Agape not want him? Or does he want him to catch him like what he said five years ago? 

Then he calls. 

Then Agape becomes _ Victor. _

And Yuuri falls, sinking deeper. Staring at the chocolate shop, he buys two boxes of chocolate before realizing he's indeed going to court this omega. The right way. The proper way. 

Then he has sex with him again. And again. He assumes Americans have sex during a courtship and makes adjustments. If Victor wants many trial runs before getting a claiming bite on his neck, so be it. He'll pass every test the omega puts before him. 

He does everything by the book. Courting gifts of food, scarves and shoes for Makkachin, necklace of pearls for the omega's beautiful, pale neck. Everything he could think of. 

He hands him the keys to the house. 

After the incident in Tokyo, Mari calls him every week, starting with the same question. 

"So have you collared him yet?" 

"Not yet." 

Then everything falls apart. He could hear Victor's words echoing over and over in his head. Has he failed the courtship? Is he not good enough for the omega? He desperately tries to call for weeks and then gets the message. 

He backs off. 

He continues sending courting gifts every day, gifts in hopes that Victor would finally call him back. It's shitty and rude, but he's in too deep and he's waited five years for this courtship and he'll be damned before he easily gives up. 

The omega accepts the first few gifts to the alpha's relief. Then he doesn't. 

At that point, the gifts become more and more expensive. He's already burned through millions of dollars buying this and buying that and he never asked himself if he was getting in too deep, but the truth is this: Victor is priceless in comparison. 

He sees a few people selling their story about the Makkachin statue and the flowers and the violin. It takes merely two phone calls to get the next FedEx employees and deliverers gagged with a NDA. One phone call to get the flower girl fired. 

He doesn't want to see Victor's name to be dragged through the mud. He doesn't want people commenting on and projecting onto their relationship when it's undefined to both of them. 

He calls Chris when he's running out of ideas for the month of September. He once swore to himself he'll never call him after Chris once picked up, thinking Yuuri was his boyfriend, Masumi. 

"What does he want? What can I do to make him happy?" he asks, his voice pleading. 

"Unless you got a little over nine hundred million dollars to buyout his contract with Sony, you can't make him happy." 

Yuuri quickly hangs up, his mind racing. Nine hundred million dollars. He thinks of the stock market and then dismisses the idea of simply buying out that contract. He has already mentally calculated his private assets and then counted the money in the family trust and _ then _estimated the value of his parent's portfolio. It's going to put a huge, sizable dent in him and his family's if he tries, despite how well the market is doing. There is simply no way he would buy Victor's contract out when he has better options. Picking up his smartphone, he scrolls through his contact book for an old friend sitting on Sony Corporation's Board of Directors. 

"Hello, Akio-san, it's Yuuri Katsuki. When are you traveling to California?" 

It takes three weeks for him to break the contract, because the Sony CEO is incredibly busy despite the pesterings from Yuuri's assistant, Kenji. 

Two days after breaking the contract, Yuuri hears his car reading out the caller's name for a phone call. _ Victor Nikiforov. _

He picks up immediately. Then he's immediately driving to Beverly Hills, all the way from Seal Beach. 

He pulls up the driveway, feeling like he's coming home for the first time in forever. There's a tightness in his throat, and he's knocking at the door, awaiting the unknown. 

And when the door opens, he's met with a surprise. Yuuri blurts without thinking, "You cut your hair." The paparazzi hadn't been able to get a clear shot of Victor for months. 

The omega sports short silver hair, just ending right by his beautiful light blue eyes. 

"Yeah. I opened your gift," Victor admits, looking soft and beautiful in just a fluffy white bathrobe. His scent of roses wafts over to Yuuri, teasing and alluring the alpha. "The elaborate hairpiece that's perfect for holding up long hair. Then I got mad and cut it, so I couldn't wear it." He stands awkwardly, fidgeting nervously. "Why don't you come in?" 

Yuuri does. He also remembers the hairpiece, affixed with tiny pearls and deep blue sapphires. The last of the three gifts he gave Victor in person. 

"What do you mean by courtship?" the omega inquires, voice tinged with curiosity and perhaps even the slightest note of relief. 

It's open enough to allow Yuuri to relax. 

Then Yuuri, sitting down in the parlour, begins to recount his story. From the very beginning. 


	23. Nipple Play ft. Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nipple Play | <strike>Humiliation</strike> | <strike>Body Worship</strike> | <strike>Piss</strike>

The story flows over Victor, who takes it in with surprise and then shock. Five years ago, he thinks. He dives down, following his memory lane. He remembers getting a text from his college friends about sneaking into supermodel Phichit Chulanont's VIP party, but the last memory he has of that night is of drinking three glasses of the free homebrew vodka the bartender said was made by Phichit. He remembers waking up the next morning in his apartment feeling aches all over and a faint but pleasant throbbing between his legs. Makkachin slept on top of him like an oversized cat while he received text after text about the hot Asian alpha he banged in the corner of the club party with no regards for anyone who might have been watching. 

_ Yooooooooo, so lucky dude _ was the first text. _ Go get him good. Grab him by the balls. _

_ Man, congrats, Victor, he's so hot. Pure daddy material _ was one text. 

_ He looks like a true daddy hardcore. Real dynamite in the sack. Please tell us you got his number. I hope he has friends 😉😉😉😉😉 _

After briefly scanning through his phone to see if he added any new contacts and searching through his pockets for any phone numbers on paper slips and checking his skin, he sighed in disappointment. The alpha sounded like someone he would like to have fun with.

* * *

"Phichit's vodka strikes again," Yuuri mutters, laughing with a note of disbelief. At the omega's curious look, he reveals, "I've gotten drunk enough on his earlier versions of vodka to pole dance at frat parties. No one took good pictures of me. Or videos.” 

"Oh," says the omega, head immediately spinning with images of the alpha stripping and twirling around a pole while people cheer him out. Shaking his head as if to clear his imagination, he asks in a small voice, "So you were courting me all along?" 

The alpha nods, leaning forward on the couch, body tilted at the omega. "And you forgot everything about that night?" 

Victor nods, wiping away the tears at the corner of his eye. He wraps his arms around Makkachin and laughs easily for the first time in months. "I did, I really did. I'm sorry." 

The alpha moves off the sofa to kneel in front of the omega. With slow, cautious words, he asks, "Victor Nikiforov, may I court you?" 

Lips pulling into a smile, Victor nods in delight. "Yes!" He finally hears the words he never thought would be said to him by this alpha, words he wanted to hear for so long. With a single word, Yuuri Katsuki is no longer an alpha to him but _ his _alpha. 

He pulls away from Makkachin to dive into Yuuri's arms. Burying himself so deeply, he smiles softly as the alpha scents him with possessive notes. Makkachin jumps off the couch, wagging her tail around them. She barks, pushing close at the couple. 

"Good girl," praises Yuuri, rubbing her head. He pulls the poodle into their hug. "Who's a good girl? Who's a good girl?" 

The doorbell rings. 

Victor laughs when Makkachin ducks under the alpha's arm to run at the front door. He tilts his head curiously at Yuuri. "Is that from you?" 

Shaking his head, Yuuri laughs. "You already rejected mine today." He pauses, "If you're free tomorrow, you could help me go through the storage space FedEx rented out. They're threatening to send me an invoice." 

Victor smiles. "I'll like that." He moves away from Yuuri and tugs him towards the front door. "Want to see who that is?" 

It turns out that Makkachin was barking at Chris, who lights up with glee upon seeing the alpha. With a drawl, the fake blonde calls out, “So Yuuri, you solved things at last?” 

“Almost,” the alpha answers.

Victor, though tempted to ask what else Yuuri has been holding out on, does not ask what that means. He turns to his manager and inquires, “Chris, what are you doing here?” 

“Oh, just fielding off so many calls from record labels who want a piece of you, Victor. They all heard about you breaking off with Sony. Only a few days before the media gets ahold of the news,” explains Chris. Winking at both of them with sparkling knowing eyes, he adds, “But I’ll leave, because clearly, I need to go far away. Yuuri, pleasure to see you again. I hope you stay in the area long enough to attend Saturday’s pole dancing class.” 

The alpha reddens. “Maybe. See you around, Chris.”

* * *

Yuuri ends up cooking dinner for both of them. Tsking under his breath as he examines the brimming fridge, he notes, “They still haven’t gotten a wide selection yet. I’ve been hoping someone will pick up pork loin chops. But I’m glad they picked up rosemary and garlic. Ever made chicken drumsticks?” He shuts the fridge, pulling out packaged chicken legs. 

Sitting at the kitchen counter, the omega shakes his head. “No, it takes too long. I’m a big fan of stir fry or pan fry or anything that can be quickly made.” 

Glancing up from the cutting board with carrots and green onions, Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “Do you like frozen dinners?”

Not directly saying yes, Victor looks down at his bathrobe and admits, “I eat anything.”

Adjusting his white apron, the alpha tsks again. “Then we got to get you to stop eating prepackaged foods.” He passes a sweet smile over to Victor, easily melting away the remaining walls around Victor’s heart. “I must endeavor to get you addicted to my cooking, Victor.” 

“I don’t think you’ll need to try.” 

Yuuri laughs. “Okay, then you’ll help me with dumplings?” He glides around the island to stand by Victor’s side and pulls out the omega’s hand. “Here, hold this.” He plants a flat piece of dough Victor recognizes as a wrapper for the dumpling. Grabbing chopsticks to pick up a small amount of cabbage and raw ground pork from a large cooking pot, the alpha continues, his warmth and scent pressing in on the omega, “Now, you want some but not too much for the meat inside. Too much and the wrapper can’t hold everything inside. Too little and you’ll barely be able to eat anything.” 

The omega carefully watches Yuuri’s every move. He sets a decent amount of cabbage and pork onto the flour wrapper, and then the alpha picks up a bowl of water and places it in front of them. 

“To seal the dumpling, use a bit of water and press the wrapper like this,” he says, demonstrating the presses. “I picture it sort of like gift-wrapping. Except you start at the top and then work downwards.” 

The omega concentrates, trying to following Yuuri’s direction and committing it to his memory. It seems easy, but he knows he’ll screw up somehow. 

Then Yuuri plants a perfectly made dumpling onto a ceramic platter. "Now you try." 

The first try is horrible. Like a true monstrosity come to life. He somehow breaks the wrapper by making a hole. The second try, he put too little water and couldn't get the edges to stick correctly until Yuuri, throwing himself around the omega's back to guide his hands, dab just enough water on the omega's fingers and seal the dumpling beautifully. The fourth try ends up a bit better, despite the haphazard dumpling that looks more like an ugly rock. 

It's the fifth try when Yuuri speaks again. 

Brushing his lip against the tip of Victor's ear, he murmurs, "I want to see our children sitting here to learn how to fold dumplings." 

Then Victor can't concentrate on anything at all.

* * *

Dinner is delicious, but what else could be expected except for perfection when it comes to dinner by this alpha's hands? Sharing a bench with his alpha, he purrs when Yuuri eats the ugly dumplings without blinking an eye. The alpha, draped over Victor's shoulders without pressing too much weight on Victor, brushes a finger under his lip before slipping a soy sauce-dipped dumpling into the omega's mouth. 

After dinner, Victor is in his closet, completely naked and deciding on his clothes for the night. Brushing by his collection of lingerie and babydolls, he pulls out a simple dress shirt he once stole from Yuuri's suitcase and slips it on. He purposely misbuttons the white shirt and then draws chapstick on his lip. The alpha is downstairs, cleaning up the kitchen. 

Paddling down with just a thong and a shirt on, the omega, he ruffles through his short hair and calls out, "Yuuri, you need any help?" 

The alpha wipes his hand on a towel and replies, "No, I'm done. I finished putting the rest for tomorrow. Ready for bed?" His eyes dilate upon seeing the omega. "Victor, give me a minute and I'll be with you. I need to get something out of my car." 

Victor pauses and says, "Yours?" 

The alpha nods. "Mine." 

A slow smile spread across his face. Turning around, he races upstairs with nerves anticipating and heart pounding with delight. He lies down on the bed, propped up by his army of pillows. He arranges himself, aiming to look effortlessly seductive. 

Courtship or not, he's not missing the chance to have Yuuri's dick inside him again. The last few months were miserable. 

Yuuri comes in with a simple box. Awkwardly, he plants the flat, plain box by Victor's feet and plunges his hands into his pockets. "It's not the most original gift I gave you, but I was hopeful that you’ll call one day and we’ll get this worked out.” He pulls out a thin stack of paper, and with the sweetest, most pleading eyes Victor has ever recieved, he inquires, “Adopt a poodle with me? A little sibling for Makkachin?” 

Wordlessly happy, the omega nods. 

Yuuri smiles, so light and beautiful. Setting the box and the application forms for adoption at a rescue shelter on Victor’s nightstand, he pauses to look at the black box labeled _ Athenas. _Raising an eyebrow at the omega, he tilts his head. When Victor makes no word of protest, he pops open the box and digs through the toys. 

A horrible thought enters Victor just when Yuuri pulls out a handful of dildos. 

Yuuri drops all but one toy back into the box. Sniffing softly at the pink knotting dildo, Yuuri inhales, his eyes closed as if breathing in the finest wines in the world. He then glances at the omega, his gaze so intense and smothering with primal heat. His voice drops into a purr. “You used this one a lot, Victor.” He slips it back into the box, prowling back towards the bed to where Victor lies in the mercy of his alpha. 

“Yes,” whispers Victor, the word once a big secret. 

A slow smirk spreads across his lips. "You missed me that much, Victor?"

The omega nods, his cheeks heating. 

The alpha slips out of his dress shirt, his socks, his slacks, and finally the boxers, folding them all gently to set aside on the makeup table. Curling around the omega, he sits on the bedside, the mattress dipping as it receives the alpha's weight. 

Purring, the alpha admits, "You have no idea how much I missed you, too." Brushing a hand through the omega's short hair as he presses against Victor's body, he whispers, "Many nights I regret not suggesting you make a replica of your cocklet." 

Moaning at the thought of being inside Yuuri even though he's not around, Victor draws a hand to wrap around his cocklet for a stroke. 

Yuuri doesn't stop him. He presses a kiss, pulling them both deeper underwater, so heady with pent-up lust and the heavy scent of their arousal. 

He moves his mouth down, slowly mouthing at the omega's scent gland on his neck. He pulls away a mere centimeter, hot breath dancing across the omega's thinly covered shoulder. "Take the clothes off for me. I want to see you better, Victor." 

The omega complies, basking in the sudden heat of his bare skin. He softly says, so quiet that it's as loud as a breath, "I love you." 

The alpha pauses, staring into Victor's eyes. "I love you, too." He grants a kiss lower, kissing at his nipple and rolling the other between his fingers. He lavishes careful attention to both of them, a muscular thigh slotted in between the omega's legs. 

Victor quivers around the alpha’s thigh, eagerly grinding against the smooth muscles and chasing his pleasure with overwhelming happiness. Slick makes him slide so easily. He arches his back, melting into Yuuri as if trying to merge them both into one. His hand grabs ahold of the alpha’s hair as Yuuri runs a hand down his side and slips a finger inside the omega’s cunt with ease. 

“I love everything about you,” rasps Yuuri, his words low. “I miss your warmth,” he pauses, pulling back from the omega’s redden, erect nipples. “I miss your smile,” he adds, kissing at the corner of the omega’s lips. “And I miss you.” He parts Victor’s leg, lining up his cock to the omega’s entrance. He inches himself in, quickly, impatiently rolling his hips as his mouth sinks down to nip tantalizing close to the omega's scent gland. 

“Yuuri,” gasps the omega. 

It’s so much better than the dildo. It’s so much better than the knotting dildo. For this one, unlike the others, this cock inside him with Yuuri surrounding him in his scent and heat is real. 

He knows that Yuuri loves him, the truth carving into himself so deep into his heart. He clings to this truth, this love so precious and priceless. 

A fierce thrust from the quick snap of the alpha's hip _ nails _ the omega's prostate. 

And it's in the arms of the person he loves the most where he falls apart, split thoroughly by his release.


	24. Branding ft. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Intercrural Sex</strike> | <strike>Vore</strike> | <strike>Knife Play</strike> | Branding

The next day, they are woken up by a screaming but also indiscernible voice, Makkachin barking at the front door, and the repeated, insistent chimes from the doorbell. Nuzzling into the alpha's warmth and gripping the alpha even tighter in his arms, Victor groggily begs, "Don't open it. Let's stay in bed forever. Ignore the rest of the world." 

Yuuri exhales softly, laughing from underneath the omega. He extracts himself from their mess of limbs and sheets, and then he pulls on his dress shirt. Pushing the messy bangs out of his eyes, he mutters, "What time is it?" 

Victor digs around the pillows for his phone. The lock screen flashes at him. "Almost twelve." 

His alpha stiffens. As he walks to the walk-in closet, he slips his legs into his slacks. "Victor, what do you want to wear?" 

"Nothing," replies the omega, lazily stretching on the bed. He scrolls through endless texts from Yuri about opening his front door. "Oh, it's Yuri Plisetsky at the front." 

The alpha plants a dark v-neck, black thong, and tight jeans on the omega's chest. With a gentle kiss against Victor's forehead, he whispers, "Come downstairs. It's your final delivery. From me." 

Victor watches the alpha smile away, easily striding out of the bedroom. Hurriedly, he puts on his clothes and then brushes a hand through his messy shorn hair. He walks barefoot down, seeing the front door open wide. 

"Who are you?" demands Yuri, his sour pheromones unfurling angrily at Yuuri. 

Cheerfully, Victor answers, "He's the alpha courting me, Yuri. Be nice to him." 

It's like a bomb went off. 

The omega stiffens in horror, pulling down his leopard-printed hoodie in shock. Blue eyes bulging, Yuri Plisetsky screams, "What, that's disgusting! Why do I have to be nice to this moron? He has to be an idiot to court you! And when did you decide to be courted by this thunderhead?" 

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Yuuri growls, low and warning. But he does not make any move. 

“Yuuri,” says Victor. 

“What?” answers Yuri. 

“Victor?” replies Yuuri. 

He laughs at their accidental synchronization when they both turn at precisely the exact same moment to glance at the omega. Victor cheerily states, “Yuuri, this is my songwriter and editor, Yuri Plisetsky. He’s been working lately with DJ Otabek Altin.” 

"Nice to meet you," politely offers Yuuri. He points at the distance. "Excuse me. I'm wanted over there."

The short blonde omega looks at Yuuri, who’s starting to walk down the driveway towards an unfamiliar black armored car. And then at Victor. Then he explodes again, his words coming out like a yowl. “So you actually have been reading my texts? How dare you never respond to any of my texts, Victor!” 

Victor laughs. “I forget to text back!” 

“But you canceled all of your shows and shit!” protests the other omega, ignoring Makkachin who’s wagging her tail in hopes of belly rubs. “How could you forget any of this shit? It’s not like you’ve been doing a lot of work the last few months!” 

The omega is about to respond when he catches sight of Yuuri greeting the driver for the armored car. It’s a large van with not even a logo for the security company. Completely forgetting about Yuri, he steps forward barefoot on the flawlessly smooth granite tiles. He suddenly remembers what Yuuri said. 

The final delivery. 

"What's going on?" asks Yuri, suddenly less angry. "What is that idiot doing? I hope he isn't that alpha who has been annoying FedEx. You know reporters only want to know more about that alpha ever since he got FedEx employees fired for blabbing about it to the press." 

"He is the alpha," absentmindedly admits Victor. 

Yuri sounds shocked and confused. “He’s your alpha now? But you had been rejecting all of his courting gifts anyway?” 

“We worked things out.” Then Victor smiles as Yuuri strangely returns with two guards holding a black briefcase between them. He tilts his head in confusion. “Yuuri,” he calls out, raising his voice at the alpha, “what is this?” 

"Last courting gift," he answers, his voice soft. He brushes by the omega, leading the guards into the house. "Please, put it on the table here," he says, his words barely audible within. 

"Last courting gift?" The moody omega taps his foot. 

Victor hums. 

"You know that the last courting gift is always either an engagement ring or a collar," points out the other omega. "That briefcase looks overkill for an engagement ring." 

The omega smiles at his songwriter. Nearly about to be skipping and breaking out in the happiest songs he knows, he waves at the younger man and sings, "Well, Yuri. Please make yourself scarce. I really must show my gratefulness to Yuuri." 

"Gross!" screeches Yuri, immediately heading to his car. "I don't want to hear anymore of this." Then finally spying Makkachin, he grabs her by the collar and tells him, "I'm taking her with me to preserve our precious innocence, Victor! Let's go meet Potya, Makka." 

The poodle barks once and wags her tail, eagerly following the omega into the car. Yuri drives down the driveway in a rush, still taking care to stop and look both ways for pedestrians and cars before clearing the gate. 

He closes the front door just in time to hear Yuuri talking to the guards, who are apparently also professional delivery men. It seems that FedEx is not able to deliver this package. 

"Thank you, sir. Our boss wanted to make sure you received the package in person. We also need your signature and your fingerprint, Mr. Katsuki." 

It all seems incredibly excessive just for something that may be an engagement ring or a collar. Victor doesn’t quite know which way Yuuri would swing. Traditional or modern? Part of him suspects it’ll be modern with an engagement ring that has been lavished with gems and precious metals. But another part thinks Yuuri may go the traditional route. 

After scanning Yuuri’s fingerprint into some sort of fancy device, the security guards, who seem to be actually carrying concealed guns, stoically walk pass Victor and then close the front door. They differ so much from the endlessly curious FedEx delivery men and women. 

Yuuri stands with the briefcase on the empty dining table. Upon hearing Victor’s approaching footsteps, he turns with a smile. “Where’s Makkachin?” 

“Out. Yuri took her.” 

“Then we’re all alone?” inquires Yuuri, his voice dropping into a low purr. His eyes become lidded, intense in their gaze. 

Mouth drying, the omega could only nod. 

“This is the final delivery,” says Yuuri, a hand pressing on the black leather briefcase. He reaches for the clasp and flicks one open. Then the other side. “It takes a while to make a collar, Victor.”

Victor’s eyes widen. 

“Come closer,” purrs Yuuri, smirking when the omega is merely a feet away from the alpha. His pheromones, sweet with notes of cherry blossoms and ice, intensify and sing softly at Victor, alluring and seductive in its own right. “Now you will able to see it in a better view.” He continues, a hand paused right over the handle, “My family has always been very traditional. We made collars for our prospective mates. My father collected pearls, gold, and seashells for my mother for years. He started when he was merely a teenager. Offered the collar to my mother when they were in their twenties. When it was finally completed.” 

Victor’s heart skips a beat. 

“My grandfather collected seashells from the shores. He took three years to find the perfect cowries to make into a perfect collar. My great-grandmother’s collar is composed of gold, carefully woven to make a fish pendant. We still have all of these collars. Our family has a room in Hasetsu where we keep our old collars. My grandfather kept an old fragile one that was made of wood from a bonsai. He said his grandfather told him that it’s been in the family for as long as they could remember. His grandfather’s grandfather said exactly the same. The collars always reflect the alpha's capabilities in providing,” Yuuri pauses. “The purpose of spending years to make these collars is so we could ask ourselves this question: are these omegas worth it?” Then Yuuri finally lifts the briefcase’s lid.

It’s sparkling, glowing with pride and appealing so well to an omega's instincts for wealth and rare gems. The collar sits there, lying on expensive black velvet, a beautiful creation of expensive gems and metals. 

“Let me tell you where each piece comes from,” whispers Yuuri, a finger pointing straight at drop pearls. “Flawless drop pearls with gold overtones and sharp lustre, all sourced from the South Sea. Close to Australia. Each pearl is priced at two thousand American dollars. A little cheaper, because I found some pearls myself.”

Victor chokes. There are  _ a lot  _ of pearls on that collar. 

He gestures to the sparkling red gemstones. “Red rubies, sourced from Japan. Exactly four carats each ruby and perfected into the shape of teardrops to be interwoven with the drop pearls to create one-of-a-kind floral pattern. Each ruby is priced at twenty-five thousand, minimum.” 

Victor’s eyes widen. There’s probably an equal amount of rubies and pearls. The omega thinks he may lose count if he tries. 

His alpha withdraws his hand. “The chain for the collar is white gold, Victor. The chain, the pearls, and the rubies altogether cost me about two million dollars.” He pauses, a mysterious smile forming just as he looks at Victor. "Do you see the centerpiece?" 

He does. 

It's a pink diamond the size of a baby's fist. Maybe even a little bigger than that. It's shaped beautifully into a large water drop. 

Moving to stand behind the omega, Yuuri asks, "Can you guess how much that cost me?" 

Victor shakes his head. 

Yuuri gently teases at his scent gland, his lips running against the sensitive skin. His breath runs hot against the omega's bare skin. "It came from Australia. At a discount, I bought it for sixty-eight million."

Victor chokes aloud, stunned. This very collar is worth far more than anything he has ever seen before. 

"But I want to tell you this, Victor. I’ve spent five years putting together this collar, gathering pieces from Australia and Japan. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last few months while obtaining the pink diamond, and though this collar may be worth millions to many people in this world, I've long determined that you're worth far more than this collar.” A pause. “Priceless, in fact.” 

Tears fall from the omega's eyes. This alpha is undoubtedly his. Irrevocably. With a soft voice, he begs, "Mate me. Claim me, Yuuri. I'm yours." 

With a triumphant smile, Yuuri reaches around Victor to close and grab the briefcase. Then he leads him upstairs, laughing in relief as they clamber messily onto the bed. They tear off each other's clothes, uncaring of where they fall. Staring with adoration and intimacy, Yuuri requests, "Let me see you with the collar on?" 

It takes a few adjustments before it's placed correctly on the omega's neck. It's surprisingly heavier than it appears, the pink diamond resting lightly against his chest. 

The alpha hums in appreciation. "You're still far more beautiful than this collar, Victor." 

Naked except for the collar, he leans back into the pillow and purrs, "Even if I get old, ugly, and bald?" 

"Even then." He gently removes the collar off the omega's neck and places it safely into the briefcase. "I promise." 

Once the briefcase has been stowed away to the floor, Victor arches his back and bares his neck to his alpha. His hand neatly parts his puffy folds to reveal his dripping hole. "You have me," he murmurs. "Now claim me," he demands, a note of impatience infused in his words. 

Yuuri smiles, his teeth scraping against the sensitive scent gland. "In good time, Victor." 

He maneuvers them so Victor straddles his hips and so close to ride the alpha, the omega's leaking cunt hovering over his dripping cock. Victor nearly weeps when the alpha finally plunges deep inside his channel.

"Bite me," he breathes. "Please." 

"I want to," grunts Yuuri, firm hands gripping the omega's hips and preventing Victor from moving for the slightest relief. His dark eyes, lustful and lovely and so alive, glimmer at the omega. "But I want you to bite back. We'll never be a one-way street again, Victor. Starting now and for the rest of our lives together." 

"Sounds like a marriage proposal." 

Yuuri smiles wider. Then he helps the omega move. His cock pushes so deep into Victor, every roll feeling so good for the omega. 

His cocklet, wet and hard, slaps against his stomach. He pants, breathing in Yuuri's pheromones, so drunk with the evidence of Victor's effect on this alpha. His alpha. Yuuri, alpha. 

"I want you to fill me up," cries Victor, clenching his walls hard around the alpha's cock as if to never let go. "I want you to fuck your pups into me." 

The alpha growls, quickly flipping them over. He reverently thrusts in, the new angle sending the omega soaring to new heights. Yuuri whispers, his words spilling away like a prayer, "I want to see our pups grow in you. I want a whole litter, Victor. You'll be so good for us, won't you?" 

"Yes, yes, yes," chants Victor, eagerly pushing against Yuuri and giving as good as he gets. "Yuuri, please." 

After a hard, frenzied thrust, hot seed shoots deep into Victor's channel. Victor's cunt squeezes and milks his alpha's cock, so desperate for every drop. 

Determined with eyebrows drawn in concentration, Yuuri continues pistoning, his cock sliding easily back into the omega's welcoming hole. A knot begins to form at the base. 

Convulsing around Yuuri's hard length, Victor begs, "Alpha, I want your knot. Plug me. Stuff me!" He whispers, the next words so devastating to the alpha's ears, "So hard. So I'll be pregnant." 

The knot pops in, sending Victor coming with slick dribbling out of his cocklet's slit and Yuuri diving down at Victor's neck like a true predator catching its escaping prey. The alpha's teeth breaks the skin of the scent gland as he drives his knot even deeper into the omega, hot seed filling up Victor so well. 

Following his instincts, Victor surges upwards and bites Yuuri's exposed scent gland. 

And after so much waiting from both alpha and omega, the bond finally snaps into place. 


	25. Face-sitting ft. Sixty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face-sitting | <strike>Hair-pulling</strike> | <strike>Cock and Ball Torture/Ballbusting</strike> | <strike>Smiles/Laughter</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and check out some collar appreciation

Victor, who has won several awards previously in the American Music Awards, does not have anything in the running this year. However, he still has an invitation anyway with a special, specific request to not wear anything perishable. He sighs when thinking about the most recent request. After reading many requests of the same variations over the years, he finds it rather tiring. But this time, he’s not going to wear a meat dress. It’s too unfitting for this collar. 

He arrives without a date on the red carpet. Yuuri has his quarterly senior partners conference at the firm that short of death, pregnancy, severe illness, or attempted assassination, no one could get out of. He apologetically made love to the omega earlier today and promised a good surprise after the awards ceremony. Victor’s not sure what else could Yuuri give him. He’s already stayed with Victor for almost a month in Beverly Hills. 

A mating bite, a bond that's slowly forming, and his alpha. 

That's all Victor needs. 

Cameras flash the very millisecond he stepped out of the limo. It's his first public appearance since the article speculating about the mysterious alpha suitor, the first appearance since he canceled all of his shows and appointments. His first appearance at anything in over four months. 

He looks this way and that, ensuring every photographer has the best angle of him. The long shimmering black-red dress with its two feet long train flows behind him, the silk material exquisitely simple for Agape yet wordlessly beautiful. His dress is strapless to adequately show off the splendid collar resting possessively around his neck. Two stoic, towering alpha bodyguards stand off in the distance. 

Then the screaming starts. Reporters and fans shout at him, words meshing into one another. At his throat, the pink diamond sparkles, winking away at the thousands of flashing lights. 

“Agape, is that a collar? Who’s the alpha?”

“When’s the next album going to drop?”

“When did you cut your hair?” 

“Agape, over here!” 

He merely winks at the reporters and fans, not saying a word. 

> **Agape, who after four months of absences, ** still regularly posts pictures of his dog, Makkachin (Bless!) on various social media sites including Twitter and Instagram. Today, on October 7, he finally shows up to the American Music Awards where big stars like Taylor Swift and Khalid are up for awards. 
> 
> [Agape’s Instagram post of Makkachin]
> 
> He hasn’t released anything in over two years, but rumors are abound after Sony Music Entertainment announced they’ve voided his contract. He's currently without any recording companies. 
> 
> But the pop god came back with two new surprises. 
> 
> The most distinctive and trailblazing feature of the singer was always his long, silver hair. Approximately two feet long, the omega pop star once said to  _ Entertainment Weekly  _ that he has not cut it since he was fifteen years old. Tonight, however, he made a grand entrance with his greatly shorten hair. We can't tell whether it's shockingly good or amazingly wonderful. 
> 
> [side profile picture of Agape’s short hair] 
> 
> The other surprise from our Grammy-awarded celeb is his spectacularly stunning, expensive collar on his neck. 
> 
> [closeup shot of Agape’s collar]
> 
> We asked an expert from Tiffany's about the collar. Tiffany’s senior collar expert and designer, Marge Blanco, said, “You can tell a lot about the alpha or beta or even omega just from the collar. Though it’s not mainstream yet, omegas have been giving their mates collars. However, collars are still an omega accessory." 
> 
> EW: So what can you tell about Agape's mysterious suitor?
> 
> MB: Rich, possessive, and extravagant. I would even add extremely thoughtful. 
> 
> EW: We can see from the pink diamond itself that it’s quite expensive. But why would you say “extreme thoughtful”, Ms. Blanco? 
> 
> MB: Well, I’ve been a fan of Agape since my daughter fell in love with his first album. She told me all about how supportive he is of battered omegas and homeless shelters. He donated a lot of water filters to impoverished areas of the world. He's been a big supporter against human trafficking and slave labor. 
> 
> EW: But what does that have to do with the collar? 
> 
> MB: Blood diamonds are jewels that utilize slave labor, child labor, or low-paid workers. These diamonds are called blood diamonds, because they've been used by terrorists to finance their operations and they've been fought over by separate groups who want the wealth. They're highly lucrative. They're sourced from various parts of the world, most notably poor and unstable African countries. Most collars of this value use diamonds, not pearls and rubies. 
> 
> EW: So what is the source?
> 
> MB: The pearls are definitely from South Sea. You're likely to find large ones from there. But the rubies aren't Burmese, which is another controversial jewel that is akin to blood diamonds. You can tell, because they aren't that unique red and splendid. Then there's the pink diamond. They're so incredibly rare, but it's my expert opinion it's from Australia and between forty-three to forty-eight carats. It's the collar that has been ethically sourced that is so thoughtful to Agape and his values. And wow, that floral pattern is so precise in customized design, it's almost as if Agape is wearing a flower necklace that could only be worn by him. 
> 
> EW: In your expert opinion, what would be your estimated value of this collar? 
> 
> MB: Eighty million. Minimum. The fact that Agape wore it increases the price. It already has its own Wikipedia page. If it was ever auctioned, it would easily break the hundred million barrier. But I don't think it would be. 
> 
> EW: Wouldn't be what?
> 
> MB: Auctioned or sold. It's a very traditional collar. Collars like those don't get sold. They don't typically get reworn or broken apart unless due to unforeseen circumstances such as the Holocaust, where Jewish families had their collars stolen and then melted down for gold. It's kept in museums or in private vaults or even buried with the bonded pair.

He comes back late, the burly bodyguard satisfied enough to leave when he places the collar carefully into the vault in the basement. It's been insured, and part of the insurance policy mandates Victor to always have at least two bodyguards with him to keep the collar secured. Bodyguards partially paid for by the insurance company. 

He honestly suspects that's why Yuuri picked this one over the others. 

He tiptoes to the office Yuuri has commandeered and finds his alpha still having a video conference with the firm's senior partners. Most of the conference is in english, because that's the common vernacular. 

Yuuri's not talking. He's just staring at his large monitor, his glasses slipping down his nose. He's so close to falling asleep. 

"Park-san has been planning this retirement for two years already. He's already seventy. Abe-san, you can't consider him asking to stay another six months just so a second junior partner could be trained by Katsuki-san." 

Yuuri straightens at the mention of his name, hitting a button on the keyboard. Lowering his mouth closer to the microphone, he says, "Most of the senior partners will be in the same position as before. We need to promote two junior partners by the end of the month if Park-san is not staying an extra six months." 

There's a sudden collective groan. 

A feminine voice chimes in, her english sounding vaguely British. "Mr. Lang is right, however. Mr. Park shouldn’t need to stay an extra six months. He’s been planning this retirement and announced it to us over a year ago. I understand that we must change branches, but there should be a way for Mr. Katsuki to train two junior partners at once.” 

Another voice cuts in, his Japanese accent strong but his words firm in sound. “I’m currently handling some Chinese firms, but I could take on a junior partner. The only downside is that I’ll be in Shanghai for the next foreseeable future, and they'll not be able to copy Katuski-san.” 

“Morooka-kun, there are seventeen other senior partners in this firm," says a serious, imposing voice with vague Japanese accents. She continues, "Lang-kun has the clients with the least priority and emergency. As thoughtful as Katsuki-kun is to offer to train even one junior partner, we all know that he is rapidly approaching a new milestone in his life. He's already been on a reduced workload for the last five months." 

There’s some even more grumbling. 

Still speaking and ignoring the senior partners’ reactions, the woman says, “Park-san has been a dedicated senior partner for the last twenty years. We can’t ask him to stay for an additional six months, but we should be capable of redistributing the workload. Morooka-kun’s workload will not change, and neither will Abe-kun’s. Katsuki-kun has been working a specialized workload for the last seven years, and with a new mate, he does need a normal office and more flexible hours. Park-san used to cover and specialize in Western Europe. Ideally, we should be training our newest senior partners for six months.”

“Minako-sensei,” Yuuri interrupts, “I recommended Cao-kun to be promoted to senior partner yesterday. I’ve also suggested that Kenjirou be interviewed as a potential associate. He has completed his B.A. last year from Yale University.” 

Victor steps away from the door. He would rather not try to sneak under the alpha’s desk just to mess around with Yuuri. The cameras are sadly on. He moves to the master bedroom, humming to himself. Slowly slipping off the dress and sending it pooling in a black and red puddle on the floor, Victor yawns, pets Makkachin in her doggy bed a few times on the head, and disappears into the bathroom. He uses the toilet and carefully wipes away his makeup. Then he plops naked under the sheets, snoring as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

He gets woken up by the alpha a little later. It’s not morning, but Yuuri is loud enough to get noticed by the formerly sleeping omega. 

Mumbling, Victor says, “Good conference?” 

Yuuri lets out a soft laugh. “Minako-sensei had to wrestle Ms. McKinley into taking Park-san’s old position, because she could fluently speak Portuguese and Spanish. However, that left Australia’s region empty, so she shuffled a few other senior partners around to monitor that branch until a junior partner could be trained well enough to handle Australian, New Zealand laws and businesses. But there's a point." He smiles in the dark. "There are four senior partners in the Americas. There'll be a new branch that will be headquartered in L.A. I'll be running that." 

Victor's heart skips a beat. "You mean—" 

"I'm staying close to you, Victor."

* * *

The next morning, Victor finds himself staring at the slumbering alpha. He peeks down the sheets, spying Yuuri's impressive erection. Carefully slipping his hand down his alpha's boxers, he wraps around the hard length, his channel suddenly leaking slick and feeling so terribly empty. His cock is hard and warm, jutting at the fabric. 

"Don't start anything you can't stop," mumbles Yuuri, rolling onto his side to face the omega. 

Victor smiles. He can't stop Yuuri at all. For the last month, every morning has been spent with the two of them constantly renewing their bonding bites. Superstition and mythology says a lot about bonds, but the most important thing about them is to make the bonded pair further attuned to each other. 

"Fuck me," begs Victor. 

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. "Maybe," he replies, throwing off the comforters. He turns his body around, his mouth breathing hot air by Victor's ankles. "Do you like breakfast in bed?" Yuuri casually ask, off-topic in a sudden. 

Victor winces. "It's messy." 

"I can prove it isn't," Yuuri purrs, licking his lips. "Sit on my face, Victor." 

Heart racing in excitement, the omega adjusts his position until his alpha could easily suck away at his entrance. Slick drips from his cunt, so easily lapped away by the alpha. His thighs desperately tighten around the alpha's head, so ravenous for greater friction and hungry for  _ something  _ to fill in the emptiness of his cunt. His cocklet, smearing slick onto Yuuri, bobbles against the alpha's forehead. 

Yuuri's hands firmly wrap around Victor's side. His tongue freely explores the omega's folds, his tongue diving as deep as possible into the omega's cunt. 

Hands clenching into palm by his side, Victor squirms at the unusual sensations, his mouth patting open in pleasure. He gasps when Yuuri swipes his hot tongue across a sensitive bunch of nerve ends. Yuuri repeats the action, intense dark eyes drinking in and remembering Victor's exact, sudden reaction. 

His teeth nibble along his folds, sending the omega jolting in surprise. Then he suddenly pulls back from his devotion, reddened lips stained with slick with a smile. "You changed your mind about breakfast in bed?" His hot breath teases away at the omega's sensitive entrance. 

"Oh, yes," moans Victor. 

"Eat me for breakfast?" inquires Yuuri. 

Nodding down at the alpha below him, Victor reverses himself, lies down on his stomach on the alpha, and then falls forward to hover over the alpha’s boxers. With delicate hands, he slowly pulls off the boxers and watches the erection spring free from its cotton prison. He slips it further down to be out of his way, and carefully, he takes ahold of Yuuri’s cock with both hands, gripping the alpha tight. 

His back arches when Yuuri’s tongue suddenly licks at his inner thigh. 

"Yuuri?"

"Don't mind me." 

Victor isn't sure how he'll do that. But with renewed determination even as Yuuri's tongue presses against his skin again and the alpha's hand squeezes his ass, the omega concentrates on the cock, stroking it slowly. 

He has no intentions of reliving the experience of Yuuri booping his nose one morning after a lazy round of lovemaking and affectionately calling Victor "my pillow princess." It takes a slightly humiliating search on Google to discover what that means. 

Victor sticks his tongue out, letting his saliva intermingle with Yuuri's precum. He breathes in Yuuri's musky scent, growing heady from the alpha's intensifying pheromones. He jolts again, only held back by Yuuri's hold on his thighs when Yuuri's mouth presses against Victor's entrance in a parody of a kiss. 

He slowly forces the cock into his mouth, lazily taking as much as he could. He relaxes, the head nearly inducing his gag reflex. He pulls back, saliva dripping down Yuuri's shaft. 

Yuuri pulls back, blowing cold air at the omega's leaking entrance. "You're so good for me, Victor." 

The omega shivers, the fire stirring at the alpha's encouraging words. He's so aware that he's not as good as Yuuri, that he's not so experienced, but he's determined to try and learn. 

So he shoves the cock into his mouth again, fiercely sucking away at the alpha's member. His light blue eyes tear up, so close to gagging. Then the alpha's hand parts his folds and Yuuri's tongue dives into the omega's channel, thrusting in and out with something akin to worship. 

Something grows at his lips, under the grip of his hands. Yuuri's knot, beginning to form rapidly. If Victor's gag reflex is better, he might be able to take that knot into his mouth. He hums around Yuuri's cock at that thought, his cunt aching. 

Then Yuuri's tongue suddenly swipes at the sensitive bunch of nerves, triggering the omega's orgasm. His cocklet leaks slick over the alpha's chest. 

Victor shouts, his hips buckling at his climax and his mouth pulling off the alpha's cock before the knot could be slipped and locked in. Hot white seed shoots from Yuuri's cock, landing all over the place but mostly on the omega. Painting the omega's short silver hair and face with come. 

The omega runs his tongue over his lips, tasting the alpha's salty seed. "Delicious, Yuuri." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didnt know until now that some people thought Yuuri bought out Victor's contract. He didn't. He had the parent company cancel the contract by dangling a more profitable contract in front of them.


	26. Bukkake ft. Roleplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Feet</strike> | <strike>Gags</strike> | Bukkake | <strike>Ass Worship</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not really bukkake cause there's only one thrower. However, I live for any excuse to make Victor dirty.

What Victor finds out is that it's so easy to live with Yuuri Katsuki. Two months of living with his alpha. He smiles as Makkachin rests in his lap for rubs and Yuuri reads and signs through some paperwork with so many legal jargon and tech words that it makes Victor's brain hurt. It's one of those days when Victor finally asks, "Yuuri, you work in consulting?" 

Yuuri hums in confirmation, not looking up from his packets. His fingers squeezes around his pen, his feet tapping rhythmically. 

"But the firm works internationally? I thought consulting only specialize in a single country." 

"We specialize in trade agreements and contract laws within some countries. Each partner has their own narrow sphere of area which they know very well. For someone like Morooka-san, he knows agricultural policy within China, Japan, Cambodia, and the United States. I'm focused on smart technology like cell phones, cars, refrigerators, stoves, but I also help clients make contracts with other firms and businesses." A pause. "Minako-sensei is the only one who advises clients on investments and long term planning for sustainability." 

The omega purrs, squeezing around his poodle. His Yuuri is so smart. "So the firm must be very good at what it does." 

"Wasn't always. In 2008, we screwed up badly enough to ruin financials of our clients. We were being sued by governments. No one wanted to work for the firm until we changed our name to SEAGULC." 

Victor suddenly remember Yuuri's twitter bio. "Seagulls?" 

"No, but we pronounce it like that. It's an acronym for our firm. Its official name is South East Asia Group, Unlimited Liability Company." 

"Unlimited. Isn't that reckless?" Victor recalls spending about a thousand per year for his lawyers to maintain an LLC, so it'll prevent him from getting sued for everything he owns. 

"For tax purposes, we don't have to pay very high rates. Also, Minako-sensei believes it'll help the firm stay honest. Less reckless. We haven't run into any problems so far." 

“Mmm,” purrs the omega. He gently pushes away Makkachin’s head, moving closer to the alpha. He climbs behind Yuuri’s back, scooting in between the alpha and his chair. He wraps his arms around the alpha’s neck, scenting Yuuri gently. “You know, I’ve been thinking. You know about our wedding?”

The alpha nods. “Yes?” 

“Your mother and sister messaged me on Instagram. Said to remind you to reserve a date for our wedding.” 

Yuuri freezes, his papers rustling. He turns his head back, the alpha’s attention completely focused on Victor. “I admit I did send a copy of your schedule to myself. I saw you had events in November and December, and you are still finding a new recording company that I didn’t know when you’ll want to do it or even if you wanted to have a wedding in Japan.” There's a touch of anxiety Victor would have not picked up if it wasn't for the bond. 

“Yuuri,” he sings, laughing. “You know you can just ask anytime. When do you want to do it?” 

“April,” Yuuri answers, not a single note of hesitation. “The cherry blossoms are incredibly beautiful during that time. They always bloom in April in Hasetsu.” 

“Then we’ll do that.” A pause. “Yuuri, I’m also thinking of dropping my suppressants and birth control. The first heat is infertile, but the ones afterwards. . .” 

Yuuri sucks in air. "You mean—" 

"Yes." Victor breathes in at the alpha's scent gland, drinking up Yuuri's aroused intense pheromones. "I want our ten babies, Yuuri."

The alpha chokes. "We'll have to work on it." 

"Yes," purrs Victor. "A lot of work."

* * *

They go to bed after feeding Makkachin her dinner and then brushing her teeth while giving her a bath. The poodle clambers onto the California king-sized bed, sleepily dropping at the foot of the bed. Though Victor has been begging all day for Yuuri to ignore work and fuck him, he stops at the sight of Makkachin blinking slowly. 

"She's so beautiful," he gasps. "I don't want to disturb her." 

"Victor," sighs the alpha, a touch of adoration in his voice. 

"Such a precious girl." 

"Let her have her beauty sleep," says Yuuri, tugging at the omega's wrist. "Let's go to a guest bedroom." 

Victor climbs into the guest bed, instantly whining. "It doesn't smell like you, Yuuri," he immediately complains. "Join me, alpha." 

Stripping off his clothes and then folding them on the chest of drawers, Yuuri sits at the bedside and looks down at the lounging omega with pure reverence in his dark eyes. Lifting up the omega's v-neck, he whispers, "Remember, Victor. Let's work for our pups. Stay very still for me." 

Then Victor's eyes dilate. 

Once naked thanks to the alpha, Victor is completely bared and exposed under the alpha’s intense gaze. He squirms on the sheets, just wondering what Yuuri is waiting for. He’s perfectly willing and wet here, and Yuuri simply marvels at Victor as if he’s a dragon hoarding a prized jewelry instead of doing much of anything— 

“Oh,” Victor cries. 

Yuuri’s finger spreads his folds, and a long, pale pianist finger enters his clenching channel. He arches, stretching in pleasure at the alpha’s touch. In a silky whisper, Yuuri leans down and says, “You have no idea how beautiful you look, Victor. What effect you have on me.” 

Victor manages a reply to that. “I think I have some idea,” he breathes, almost breathless as he drowns in the alpha’s pheromones. He rubs his scent gland against the pillows, so desperate to scent the alpha in return. 

He wants everyone to know this alpha is his and his alone.

And that he belongs to this alpha, wholeheartedly. 

No one else in this world can satisfy Victor. 

No one but Yuuri. 

His hands clench at the pillows when Yuuri’s hard erection presses against his ankle, giving the omega a very clear idea of his effect on his alpha. He sweetly drawls out, “Yuuri!” 

The alpha hums. 

“I want you in me. How else can we make pups?” asks Victor. 

Yuuri growls. “Victor, behave.” He leans forward, his lips barely brushing Victor’s hard cocklet. “Don’t you remember the lesson I’ve been trying to teach you? I know you’ve learned it, Victor. You just like to be punished.” 

Victor whines, shamelessly lifting his hips to force Yuuri’s finger to prod his prostate, the very spot the alpha needs to touch. 

“Naughty omega,” chides Yuuri, his slick-stained fingers pulling out of Victor to hold down the omega’s hips. “So impatient today, aren’t you, Victor? But you must learn patience. How else would you learn how to please your alpha?” 

“But Yuuri, don’t you want me—”

He's unable to finish the sentence. 

He shouts when Yuuri quickly takes ahold of Victor’s cocklet and sucks it deep into his mouth, swallowing all the slick dribbling from the slit down the alpha’s throat. 

Yuuri pushes down his mouth, drinking the omega in as if trying to eat every bit of himself Victor would offer. Fingers slips away from the omega’s hip, two fingers diving back inch by inch deep into Victor’s cunt. 

Victor tightens, moaning. His channel tries to milk the fingers, the muscles flexing to draw the alpha in. He exposes his throat, cleanly showing off the alpha’s claim, the beautiful bite mark left by Yuuri. The clear and recognizable sign that he's in a serious mated, bonded relationship. He whines at the alpha, spreading his legs even wider in a desperate display. He's not above using somewhat underhanded tactics to get Yuuri's dick to where it belongs. Which is obviously inside of him. So deep that Yuuri could make him pregnant. 

Breathing so hotly next to the omega's sensitive cocklet, Yuuri tsks. "Still so naughty and so impatient. You're not working for our pups, Victor." 

"Yuuri," begs Victor. "Fuck me." 

The alpha pauses, "No. You're so naughty, Victor. I don't think you deserve my cock. Would you like to earn it?" 

The omega eagerly nods. 

"What's your safe word, Victor?" 

Nerves igniting in delight and sheer anticipation, the omega licks his lips and quickly responds, "Eros."

"Very good," praises the alpha, rising to sit back on his haunches. "I think we should test your acting skills, Victor. How good you are will determine whether or not I breed you tonight." 

"What do I need to do?" 

The alpha pauses, his sultry, tantalizing words drawing up a fantasy right before their eyes. "In Japan, unlike here in America, some parents arrange a marriage for their children. The first few meetings between the prospective couple are chaperoned. Then the alpha or the omega, if he or she likes their mates enough, would request an unchaperoned session. Can you imagine what occurs in that session, where they are alone in a room?" 

"They. . ." Victor pauses, searching for an answer. "They mate, right?" His voice sounds terribly hopeful. 

Yuuri shrugs. "Not necessarily. The first priority is always to inspect the goods. Usually, they explore first. Take off each other's clothes." His voice softens, every word dripping sweeter than honey. "Then they touch." Yuuri dips his fingers around Victor's entrance, his wet finger making a trail of wet slick on the omega's stomach. "Usually, the omega doesn't have any experience except for toys given to them in their heat. So they are guided by the alpha's lead."

Victor's pink nipples harden like pebbles under the slick-stained fingers of the alpha. Yuuri's muscular thigh wedges itself between Victor's legs, pressing so wonderfully at his entrance. He lets out a needy whine. 

His alpha continues, his glasses glinting deviously. "Many omegas are too shy to make even a passionate noise. Alphas ask constantly if they are adequately satisfying their omegas. Omegas typically answer only yes or no. Both parties are always polite to never push boundaries." 

Victor pleas, "Yuuri, please. I want you now."

The alpha puts a finger to his lips, shushing the omega into silence. "Let's see how well you play a prospective candidate for me, Victor. First, I must check to see your body." 

Victor squirms, his slick freely flowing all over the alpha's thigh. 

His hands run down Victor's side and then across his abdomen. He circles around the cocklet, never touching the engorged flesh. Then he pulls away his thigh, watching the slick stick to his skin, clinging away. "A healthy production of slick. Clear with no alarming or usual smell." 

The omega shivers. It's like a medical exam. A very kinky, unprofessional exam. 

He arches again, trying to display his body to the alpha. His cunt clenches around nothing, slick dripping onto the alpha's finger. 

Then Yuuri suddenly pushes his finger in. One finger, sliding so easily. He adds another one, muscles tightening around both fingers. He seriously muses, "Fairly loose. Suggests either a fondness for toys or has a regular partner who is not the alpha." Then he leans in, accusingly staring with dark eyes at Victor. "Do you have another lover you haven't told our parents?" 

Playing the inexperienced omega, Victor shakes his head, delirious when a third finger easily slips in. "No, no other lover!" 

"A favorite toy?" questions Yuuri. "Something you like using even outside of your heat?" 

Victor shakes his head. "No, no," he gasps. "I don't do that." 

Yuuri gently pinches Victor's nipples, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to gain a light, pleasant wave of pleasure washing over Victor's head. He shifts his weight, his long, thick cock lining up to Victor's eager entrance. "There's one way to tell if you are truly loose." 

Victor moans, massaging the alpha's cock as it sinks deeper and deeper, inch by inch. Slick helps it along, and Yuuri has fucked him so well yesterday, keeping his hole loose enough for easy reentry. 

The alpha clicks his tongue. Shoving himself, pushing his cock deep as possible inside of the omega, he scolds, "It's so clear that you've been taking a cock, Victor. You've lied to your alpha, omega. You've lied to our parents. This behavior is unacceptable." 

Victor's mouth dries. 

"For this transgression, the omega is sometimes humiliated and then returned to their family. However, you have a chance to prove yourself." He pauses, his cock squelching as it pulls out of the omega's cunt. "It's clear from the looseness of your hole, the alpha has returned to you over and over and over again. Show me why he does. Be my whore, Victor." The alpha lies back, maneuvering some pillows behind him in a casual attitude. 

The omega chokes, his skin blushing at the alpha's words. He sits up and turns around on his fours in obvious presentation to show his wet, sopping hole. The alpha doesn't react. After a moment of consideration, he crawls to the alpha's lap and squeezes his nipples in the alpha's full view. 

After all, he might as well take what he wants. 

Eagerly impaling himself onto the alpha's cock, he rolls his hips and chases his own release. He tries so hard to squeeze around Yuuri, to please his alpha, but he's been on the edge all day since going off his heat suppressants. He comes embarrassingly fast, slick bursting over his stomach. He sinks back, Yuuri's cock firmly hard in his channel as little waves of release rush by. 

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. "I'm curious why that alpha would return to you. You're so selfish, Victor. Care only about your own release." 

Victor purrs back, happily defiant in the afterglow. 

The alpha growls, the only warning before he's lifted off the bed and forced to kneel on the floor. The alpha's cock juts out a mere inch away from Victor's nose. Yuuri takes ahold of his cock, his hands stroking away and ignoring Victor's offered, parted mouth. "Since you don't really deserve my cock." 

It takes minutes before hot pearly white seed bursts all over the omega's face. But Yuuri holds Victor's head still as another load quickly joins the previous, dripping down Victor's chin and onto his nipple. A few even lands on the omega's cocklet. 

Victor whines at the seed, uselessly covering the expanse of his bare skin. 

"You didn't earn my seed today, Victor." 

The omega whines, finally seeing his error. It should be inside of him, so they could catch, putting a whole litter inside of him. He watches the alpha disappear into the bathroom and return with a washcloth. 

He kneels in front of Victor, the cloth wiping the come from his eye area. Yuuri presses a soft, careful kiss at the side of Victor's neck, teasing away the sensitive edges of his scent gland. The alpha's voice drops, his words husky and toe-curling. "Victor, you need a bath now. Want to join me?" 

Setting aside his disappointment, Victor purrs in answer. 


	27. Titfucking ft. Breeding Bench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Spanking</strike> | <strike>Tickling</strike> | Titfucking | <strike>Shibari</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Gio and Waffle and those filthy people I can't remember names to on 18+!!! On Ice. 
> 
> Thanks Boodle-Ookins for making me remember something before it becomes a plot hole.

The next morning, Victor immediately bans Yuuri from his bed upon seeing the alpha’s offering of multicolored, silk sheets and blankets neatly folded on the table. Instincts drive through the omega’s arms and hands as he weaves together a nest on the guest bed. He already growled at Yuuri when he offered to move them back into the master bedroom. In the throes of pre-heat and in the middle of his finished nest, Victor watches Yuuri rapidly typing away at his laptop and occasionally looking at his paperwork. He pushes up the tip of his glasses whenever it threatens to slip off his nose. 

He eventually rests on the edge of his nest, peeking to look out of the window. He spies the beautiful marble Makkachin statue surrounded by neatly trimmed rose bushes. He thinks of the Stradivarius violin in the vault, safely stowed away among other precious valuable objects. Yuuri took him to the storage room, which is really a climate-controlled storage unit that is big enough to fit a RV easily. The alpha presented him about ten gifts, which included the violin and the statue of Makkachin and a lot of clothes for him and Makkachin. 

Then Victor paused in front of a gift-wrapped box the size of an incredibly large television and asked, “Hey, Yuuri, what’s in here?”

Blushing a shade of tomato red, the alpha stammered something, the words probably in Japanese for all Victor knows. Then he quickly sprinted them out of the storage room, promising he’ll slowly give them to the omega over the next year or so. There were so many packages of various shapes and sizes that Victor wouldn’t be surprised if Yuuri will still be giving them to the omega three years later. 

Victor taps his fingers on his pillow, briefly wondering why he's thinking about that box and that particular package. It's something big, easily able to contain a bicycle or something. 

“I’m dropping my suppressants for your heat," says Yuuri, cutting into the omega’s thoughts. “If you’re good enough of an omega, Victor, you could trigger my rut.” 

And oh, Victor has never backed down from a blatant challenge before. 

“I’m hungry,” Victor says eventually, after scrolling through his endless social media feed without seeing anything remotely interesting other than Yuri forming a musical duo with DJ Otabek Altin and endlessly sending texts to Victor about potential names. 

Yuuri pauses in his typing. "I'll finish this email and get something for you." 

Glancing over at the alpha, Victor begs, "Something you made? Or sushi. I'm craving sushi." 

The alpha smiles, his voice low. "I'm sure I'll find something that'll satisfy you." Then he resumes typing, the keys clicking satisfyingly as he goes. He hums, using the laptop mouse to click something. Then he gently closes the laptop's lid. "I think there's some leftover sushi, Victor." 

Victor moans, grabbing a water bottle off the nightstand. He chugs it down as the alpha leaves for the kitchen. He thinks about all the California rolls and the more traditional Japanese sushi with raw fish and eel. Yuuri, who admitted that he has never learned how to properly make raw sushi, picked up boxes and boxes of sashimi from a little Japanese restaurant in Irvine after a long meeting in the nearby city of Costa Mesa with a few businessmen. 

He lays down his head, setting the phone somewhere in his stack of pillows. Throwing his shirt off and sending it to the floor, Victor lies shirtless, sweaty, and hot, just waiting for his heat to arrive. It's the anticipation killing him, like sitting in a taxiing airplane and never quite knowing when it'll lift off. 

He closes his eyes, picturing the oncoming heat. With an alpha as virile as Yuuri around, it'll be approaching even faster. He strongly suspects that Yuuri's seed is quite potent, and with him going off his suppressants, the alpha is not going to stop fucking him at only the first round. He parts his mouth, so open and willing and impatient, at that thought. He's never experience Yuuri's rut in full, merely only an hour of it. Or less. 

He wakes up when Yuuri sets a tray of food inside his nest. Sushi, sashimi, dumplings, chocolate, all food in high calories and fat. Enough for his heat to burn through. It seems to be only two minutes before every scrap and crumb is in Victor's stomach. Victor licks his lips and begs, "More." 

Yuuri laughs, gently like wind chimes. "I'll get you more, Victor. Be patient." 

Victor grumbles at that. Sated temporarily for the moment, he dramatically swoons and falls onto his pile of pillows, contently watching Yuuri’s firm ass as it moves out of sight. He blinks, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Then finally, he snoozes despite the steady stream of the afternoon sunlight. 

He wakes up later when there’s a distinctive shadow across the drawn curtains. Yuuri’s back at the desk, his laptop open and his increasing piles of paperwork forming an army around him. There’s a covered breakfast tray on the empty chest of drawers, and he could smell just the slightest of garlic and green onions and some exotic spices so distinctive and mouthwatering. Star anise, he thinks, distantly recalling the dried spice with a shape of a tiny starfish. But it’s not the food he pays avid attention to. 

Rather, his world narrows down to the alpha. To his alpha. His skin is so hot, so sensitive, yet there’s nothing here in his nest that could sate his hunger. Rolling onto his fours, he bares his neck and cant his hips. He presents to the alpha, showing off his wet, willing hole. He purrs, “Yuuri.” 

The alpha glances up from the laptop. Obviously scenting the air in interest with glasses gleaming inl delight, he roughly shuts the laptop and stands up. A hard bulge barely contained by his sweatpants is so terribly obvious to the omega. He briskly moves to Victor’s bedside and says, “I can smell your heat, Victor. It’s starting.” 

Victor whimpers, his hands to wrap around his alpha’s neck. He rubs his scent gland all over the alpha’s black shirt and smiles when he breathes in to find his scent mixing in so well with Yuuri’s. "Yuuri," he sings, every syllable exaggerated. "Fuck me. I want you in me now." 

Cruel and sadistic, Yuuri does not move. Instead, he muses, "I wonder if I should show you my gift now or later." 

"You don't fuck me now, I'm getting the dildos out," threatens the omega. "All of them." 

The alpha's eyes glint. "Oh, Victor. So impatient. What a brat you are today. I guess you'll get your gift right now. I'll have to carry you to another room." He raises his arms towards the omega and then princess carries him a door down, scenting the omega with calm aroused pheromones. 

Yuuri is so warm and steady against Victor's head, and the omega sighs in content despite being drawn away from his nest. He knows it's only a few steps away, and he's quite— 

Victor looks at the device taking up the center of the room, not understanding it at first. Then he connects it to a device commonly seen in the history books and then petulantly states, "This is not a gift for me. It's a gift that is completely selfish on your part, alpha." 

"Well, it's your courting gift, number nine," admits Yuuri. "You were about to open that box when I took you to the storage unit." 

"But a breeding bench?" 

Yuuri's voice drops low, husky, achingly seductive, and devastatingly alluring. "The better to breed you, Victor. Would you like to try it?" 

Victor wiggles in his alpha's arms, silently expressing his desire to be put down. He walks around the equipment, drinking in the black soft leather for his arms and feet. He touches the strap, immediately noting how pleasant they are in texture. Designed to not chafe the skin. There's a small hole at the top of the bench, so someone could breathe. Then there's a larger hole, bigger than a basketball, where the stomach would rest. He realizes, "It's for pregnant omegas." 

He would be lying that he's not interested. There's slick throughly wetting his black thong, rendering the fabric unsettlingly sticky to his skin. He wants it off now, and he wants to be fucked  _ now. _

Yuuri, brushing against the edge of Victor’s scent gland, so close to the bite mark recently renewed last night, lovingly whisper, “The first heat that is free of suppressants have a ten percent chance of being fertile, of your body releasing a viable egg. I thought we should use every single tool at our disposal to ensure your pregnancy by the end of this heat.”

The omega’s eyes dilate. Excitement and arousal so blatant, he eagerly asks, “Do you have the toys? The plug?” 

The alpha smiles, not answering. “Climb up the bench, Victor.” 

He does, making sure that his alpha always gets a good, plentiful view of his backside and ass while he strips off his thong. The faux leather rests against his skin, He moans wantonly when cool air gently nips at his skin, the slick drying on his thighs. He holds himself vulnerable, wet, and wanting as the alpha secures him to the breeding bench. He tugs, keening when he finds the bonds loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough to keep him on the bench, completely at the mercy of his dominant alpha. 

Yuuri exhales and inhales, reaching into his pocket to set something on Victor’s flat back. He whispers, “Don’t move.”

Victor, squinting through the hole, sees Yuuri stripping away his pants and disappearing from his limited view. He suspects the alpha has taken off his clothes and folded them away on the bed, neatly to avoid any wrinkles. He whined, clenching his empty hole. He huffs, pushing his hard cocklet into the bench, so wanton for any friction, for any relief to his heat. 

His alpha’s warm, confident fingers spread his folds apart, exposing his leaking hole to the cool air. A hot breath skims over Victor’s back, the omega shivering in response. “You look so beautiful, Victor. If only you can see what I see. Open, wet, vulnerable, every bit of you mine. Beautifully responsive to my every touch." He whispers, every word so carefully delicate and delighted. "By the way, Victor, I plan to fuck an entire litter into you. You'll look pregnant at the end of your heat." 

"Oh, yes," Victor gasps, squirming in his bonds. 

Something cold and hard penetrates the omega's cunt. It's not Yuuri's dick. 

Sobbing at the lack of  _ girth _ and  _ size,  _ he whines, sobbing, "Yuuri, please!" 

Innocently, the alpha remarks, "What was it you said, Victor? You'll use all of your dildos?" 

The omega's heart drops. Damn Yuuri's excellent memory. Begging desperately and squirming around the unmoving dildo in his cunt, he babbles, "Yuuri, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I only want your cock, alpha. Please let me have it." 

Yuuri twists the dildo, sending the omega clenching around the dildo hard. He clicks his tongue. "You're such a brat, Victor. I think you must learn to be a little more obedient." 

Then Yuuri proceeds to wreck Victor. He leaves the omega with a fake cock sticking out of his channel and comes back with the omega's entire collection of dildos. He goes through each one, mockingly collecting Victor's pleading opinions on each one. Some of them are only in Victor for a few seconds, just enough for Victor to forcibly feel the cold, smooth glide into his slicked cunt. The omega sobs freely, tears flowing out of his eyes when a knotting dildo is pushed in. 

"How does it feel, Victor?" 

Shaking in his bonds, Victor cries, "I need your cock, alpha, please. I'm sorry, Yuuri." He shudders at the knotting dildo bottoming out, not hitting him the right places. "I'm sorry. Only you can. . ." He gasp, choking for a moment when the dildo oh-so-slightly twists. "Satisfy," he moans, his words incomprehensible. A line of drool runs down the breeding bench. 

The toy is suddenly yanked out. 

Then Yuuri's cock, so alive and hard, fills Victor deep. Every inch is a dream to the omega, a sweet relief to the alpha's torture. Yuuri, his naked body weighing down on the sweaty omega, sets his teeth against Victor's neck. So sweet like sugar, he purrs, "That's right, Victor. Only I can satisfy you." 

Then he pulls back, thrusting deep inside of the omega's cunt. He picks up the pace, snapping his hips and rolling rather leisurely. It's when Yuuri's teeth bites down on the bite mark when Victor's vision whitens. 

He passes out quickly, winded up so well by his alpha. 

He wakes up later in his nest, feeling so full and stuffed in ways he hasn't been before. He blinks his eyes open, his jaw dropping at his stomach. He's curled onto his side, his legs unable to complete his foetal position because of his protruding stomach. He's so big, containing the product of multiple loads. Yuuri wasted no time filling the omega up on the breeding bench. He winces and slowly shifts his weight, the come buried deep inside him sloshing around, touching places he wasn't aware of before. A thick, fat plug clings tightly to his entrance, making a valid effort to contain Yuuri's seed. 

Yuuri spoons him, licking away at the renewed bond mark. Noticing the awaken omega, his alpha asks, "Do you want more in you?" 

Victor whines, nodding. 

His heat may be content for now, but he's not going to turn down Yuuri's seed. 

The alpha smiles. "I'll give it to you, but I can't fuck you, Victor." At the omega's pleading whimper, he adds, "It was leaking out while I was in you." 

"Please," Victor croaks out. 

Yuuri pauses, thinking. "Do you want to suck me off?" 

Victor shakes his head. "Can't move. So full." 

After long consideration, the alpha rearranges Victor to lie on his back. He chuckles, smirking when the omega groans at the sudden pressure of come shifting around inside of him. He straddles the omega's upper abdomen, careful not to squish the extended belly. He whispers, "I just want to take you, Victor. Over and over again. You look pregnant, Victor. Like eight months. I just want you sitting on my cock like this. Hanging on my dick and looking pretty." 

The omega moans, "Please." 

With a hand, Yuuri pushes down his hard length against Victor's pectoral muscles, earnestly fucking his cock against Victor's heaving chest. Running a gentle hand across the omega's face, Yuuri gasps and murmurs, "When you're pregnant, I can't wait to see you make milk for our babies. Your breasts will swell. So full and so good for them. Nourishing. Then I can really fuck you like this, Victor. Push them together as you leak.” 

Victor’s drooling, watching the alpha’s cock leak precum out of its slit and it plays peekaboo underneath Yuuri's palm. 

Yuuri suddenly lifts his erection off the omega's chest, his abs taut. He bites his lips, clearly holding off his release. He climbs off of Victor and realigns himself between Victor's legs. So carefully, he pulls the plug out of the omega's cunt, quickly shoving just a few inches into his channel and releasing yet another load inside of Victor. 

Victor whines, the fullness pressing even harder against every bit of himself in ways he's never experienced before. He moans as Yuuri's cock wetly slips out of his loose hole. 

Quickly plugging the omega back up, Yuuri purrs, "Such a good omega. You don't waste a drop of my seed, Victor." 


	28. Creampie ft. Rut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creampie | <strike>Master/Slave</strike> | <strike>Deep-Throating</strike> | <strike>Lingerie</strike>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Boodle-Ookins made a spotify playlist for this fanfic. I'm so amazed by it. It's 100 percent wholesome content.](https://open.spotify.com/user/4g3vkd432rwv83kg0eq8zfl0m/playlist/4v9ATuIap4hli22GXerwZ8?si=tJpyQOv-QCey-gGEYtIVJQ)

Victor wakes up, immediately noticing two things. The first is the long shadows being shaped by the curtains, dancing along with thin streams of sunlight weakly filtering in the windows. He estimates, it’s perhaps evening. Maybe five, almost six, about time for the sun to set completely, plunging the day into the darkening night. The second is Yuuri’s possessive hold around Victor’s protruding stomach, a startling hardness pushed against the omega’s ass. 

Then teeth breaks skin into his bite mark, sending the omega arching in mind-blowing pleasure. His head pushes into his alpha’s shoulder, his parted mouth letting out a near-silent gasp. 

The alpha pulls back, gently licking away at the renewed bite mark. 

The fog that is his heat has mildly receded away. But Victor could feel it coiling tighter and tighter, just waiting for the moment to hit him so Yuuri could stuff him even more with his seed. "Yuuri?" 

His alpha nozzles at his neck. "Hmm?" 

He wiggles in his alpha's hold. "Need to pee." 

The alpha pulls his arms away, about to move off the bed. "Do you need help?" 

The omega whines, his muscles so weak and sore. He complains, a dash of sass melted in his words, "I don't think I can even crawl, Yuuri. It's all your fault." 

The alpha stills. His hot lips brush against Victor's ears. His scent brushes over the omega’s nose, warningly. On the cusp of something dangerous. "Careful, Victor. Let me remind you that it was equal participation. A two way street for you to receive every drop of my seed." 

Shivering at his alpha’s words, Victor pouts. "Take me to the bathroom, Yuuri." 

Yuuri steps out of the nest and then carries him over the threshold. Scenting the omega with startlingly intense notes of cherry blossoms, the alpha plants him right onto the toilet seat. He turns around, facing away from Victor out of politeness. "Don’t remove the plug. Keep all my seed in, Victor." 

There's an unsubtle  _ Or else _ in his words. 

Victor shudders, his cunt clenching around the plug. He wants to see Yuuri's punishment for him. He wants to fall apart. He wants to be put together, piece by piece, in Yuuri's capable arms. 

When he's set back into his nest, he curls against Yuuri's toned chest. He sleeps. Or maybe not, his eyes seemingly wide awake as the sun sets down and Yuuri eventually gets up to turn on the hallway lights to get dinner and bottles of water. He sets them up on the desk, neatly ordered and placed, right next to his neat stacks of paperwork. 

Time passes by in a haze, and Victor briefly wonders if he has slipped into omega space. He slips a hand to hold his stomach, content to imagine growing pups forming within despite the pressure Yuuri’s come elicits in his body. 

"Ready to eat?" asks Yuuri, his words floating from the doorway. 

Victor whines. He doesn't feel that hungry. At the welcoming familiar scent of his alpha, he shifts his weight and ignores the marks and bites all over himself. "I want you here,” he demands, “Snuggles." 

His alpha laughs, consenting to the omega. He strips away his black sweatpants and climbs into bed, holding the omega close to himself. "I can smell you," he breathes, his nose buried into Victor's scent gland. “You smell so good. Enticing, Victor.” His eyes dilate, darkening. His words come out in a mumble, every word muffled but so clear to the omega. “I want you right now, Victor.” 

Victor moans. He doesn’t know if he could take anymore of Yuuri’s come. He feels wonderfully full, stuffed and pushed to the very brim. At the same time, Yuuri smells so alluring, as if completely made just to lure Victor deeper into his heat. This is what sailors of the myths must have thought when sirens sang them into an early watery grave. He honestly can’t blame the sailors at all. 

Then Yuuri suddenly pushes his hardness against Victor's ass. Every inch of it so hot at touch, warming the omega's bare skin. "I think I'll take you now, Victor. You're so good. Divine." His words sound as if drunk, high on Victor's very presence. “Want to put more pups into you,” he murmurs. 

"You'll have to catch me," rebelliously says Victor, throwing himself out of his alpha's grip. Groaning as the alpha's seed slosh and shift deep inside him, he barely makes it to the edge of his nest before Yuuri seamlessly pins him down to the sheets. 

There's a sharp scent singing in the air. 

Rut. 

Lying on his side with wrists held tight by his alpha, the omega purrs, his round belly weighing him down. Straddling the omega's thighs, his alpha is so careful to not hurt him even in the throes of rut. He feels a hand greedily running down his side, drawing a line of fire roaring on the omega’s skin. 

“Victor,” breathes Yuuri, the omega’s name sounding so filthy in the alpha’s mouth. 

Victor shouts, the plug pulling out from his cunt. A gush of seed and slick squirts out, messily staining the sheets under the omega and sending aerial sprays over his alpha's waiting, jutting cock. White pearly globs of seed paint his inner thighs. Victor moans, the intense pressure releasing so wonderfully and relaxing his stomach. There's a steady stream of Yuuri's come dripping out of his loose hole. 

Yuuri's eyes gleam. "So stuffed, Victor. I'm going to put more in you." 

Victor moans. For the first time, he'll get to experience the alpha in true rut. In the most primal state of mind, in the loving mercy of this alpha. 

Yuuri roughly thrusts his cock in, pushing into Victor's cunt to its very hilt. His cunt squelches so lewd in noises as it welcomes the alpha’s return. Seed from Yuuri’s previous loads slip out, forming a sticky puddle underneath them. Victor’s hole is so loose from the stretching of the wide plug that it’s so easy for Yuuri to use and abuse the omega’s cunt. 

There’s a word that buried deep inside of Victor’s head. The safe word. Instinctively, as Victor pushes back against Yuuri’s thrust to give as good as he gets, he shoves the word even deeper into his head. He doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want to use it even as the friction from Yuuri’s cock rubs his sensitive puffy folds raw around its girth. He doesn’t need it when Yuuri’s teeth finds his scent gland, claiming the omega all over again and ensuring Victor will always be Yuuri’s. He doesn’t want it when Yuuri’s making his eyes water with tears as he impales him so deep that Victor will feel the shadow of Yuuri’s cock for days. 

He wants everything this alpha could give him. 

He's speared so thoroughly as he rides the alpha's cock, moaning loudly for the alpha to listen his every feedback. He's far superior than Victor's collection of dildos and toys. 

Desperately stroking his own cocklet, Victor babbles, "So good, Yuuri. You're so good, alpha. I'm yours. All yours." 

"Mine," growls Yuuri, hands pushing at his protruding stomach. "My omega." 

Victor bares his neck, and he gasps when Yuuri bites him again, marking up his neck. 

It takes him another round for Victor to realize this is nothing like the time they had a marathon of sex in Tokyo. This Yuuri is wilder, untamed, unchecked by the standard rules of civilization. This is a Yuuri so intent to use Victor solely for his cunt, repeatedly fucking deep into the omega to satisfy himself. Using the omega completely as a good hole to stick his cock in. 

Victor's going to wear himself out far sooner before Yuuri loses his steam. Especially with his stamina. He stretches out on the soaked sheets with dried come and slick, spreading his legs apart as Yuuri ruts ruthlessly into omega's hole. 

Yuuri's pillow princess. 

He doesn't dare say anything sassy or bratty to trigger an intense reaction from his alpha. He knows too well that it'll come back to bite him in the ass, sometimes literally. Yuuri's going to step it up somehow, and he doesn't think he'll be the same afterwards if he dares to push his alpha that far. His cunt will definitely not be the same despite how elastic omegas’ could be. 

He lies underneath his alpha or sometimes sits on his lap, always constantly impaled and fucked by Yuuri's endowed cock. Moaning at Yuuri's shifting, changing paces and angled thrusts, he's a little more than a sex doll, a warm living fleshlight for Yuuri to use. There's no indication of Yuuri stopping at all when Victor is forced onto his fours while Yuuri holds him down and mounts him. 

A willing, wet hole for Yuuri. 

Victor drools and collapses onto his side, once Yuuri knots him again for the third time. He couldn't move at all, his limbs so tired and sore. They’re surrounded by dried and wet globs of Yuuri’s come. Some of it is all over Victor’s hair. 

The alpha nips at his scent gland, licking away the dried blood. Alphas have enzymes in their saliva that speeds up healing, especially for mating bites. 

"Yuuri," he whispers, the name of his mate falling from his lips like a lovely intimate prayer. "Yuuri." He pauses. "I love you." 

He doesn't expect Yuuri to understand his words. Though temporarily sated by knotting Victor's loose hole, the alpha remains in a rather instinctive state of mind. He'll be able to comprehend very little— 

Yuuri gently kisses the omega's scent gland. He settles his arms around the omega's protruding stomach, which looks more like three months pregnant instead of eight. Scent-marking the omega gently with his knot firmly stuck inside Victor, his alpha relaxes. His calm, pleased pheromones float over them both, mixing into Victor’s own scent. 

Victor purrs at his alpha. 

It seems that even though Yuuri’s stuck in a primal state, he still understands that Victor wholeheartedly loves him, that Victor belongs to Yuuri. It’s with that thought when Victor falls asleep, warm and secured in his alpha’s arms. 

* * *

He gently awakens, feeling softness pressing against his legs. The bedsheets must have been changed at some point while Victor was sleeping. Golden sunlight dances in from the expansive east-facing windows. A morning sun, Victor concludes. He’s vaguely hungry, and he smells something delicious wafting in the circulated air, probably originating from the kitchen. He immediately scents the air, finding his alpha nearby. 

Resting on his elbows, Yuuri kisses at every single red mark on the omega's thigh. Upon noticing the omega awake, he quietly asks, "Did I hurt you?" 

Victor shakes his head, ignoring the aches and sores all over his body and deep in his muscles. His stomach is no longer distended, having leaked most of the seed and slick onto the bed sheets. He gives the alpha a heart-shaped smile. "Not at all." 

Yuuri smiles back weakly. 

"If I was really hurt or uncomfortable or nervous, I would have used my safe word," reminds Victor, noticing Yuuri’s worry. "I trust you, Yuuri." 

He nods, taking it in. "Okay. Do you want to take a shower?" 

Stretching his aching arm muscles, the omega sighs, "Hell, yes." Though Yuuri has definitely wiped him down with a washcloth at some point to remove the dried slick, he still feels sweaty and dirty. 

"Think you can walk there?" 

Victor raises an eyebrow, giving Yuuri a death stare. 

Yuuri laughs, rising from the omega's legs to stretch his back and legs. He climbs over the walls of the nest. With a slight note of relief in his voice, he concedes, "I guess that is truly all my fault." 

The omega assures, "Oh, it definitely is." But he smiles at his alpha, easily slipping into Yuuri's steady arms. 

* * *

Fourteen days later, Victor pees on a white disposable stick. Even though he has not seen any symptoms, he figured he might as well see if he's been bred. He uses two other boxes of differing brands, and then compares the results. 

Positive, positive, positive. 

It takes more than a minute for him to understand. Then he's getting up from the toilet seat cover and screaming for his alpha. 

He can't stop grinning at the stick. 

They're going to be a family. 

“We’re going to an OB-GYN,” declares Yuuri, upon examining all three of the pregnancy sticks. He’s in a state of disbelief, as if he’s surprised on getting Victor actually pregnant after stuffing him with so much come that Victor could have thought he slipped into a coma and woke up in the late-stages of a pregnancy. 

“Yuuri,” sings the omega. 

“One, to confirm the pregnancy. Two, to make sure everything’s okay,” he says, sounding a little bit panicked yet surprisingly coherent and thoughtful. A trait that must have served him so well over the years spent developing his career and reputation. “And we will want an expert opinion, Victor.” 

“Yuuri, everything will be okay,” assures Victor, smiling widely and gleefully at his alpha. He admits it’s kind of funny to see an alpha who has been so into breeding him panic at the sheer thought of Victor being pregnant. 


	29. Hot-dogging ft. Master/Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Hypnosis</strike> | <strike>Sthenolagnia</strike> | <strike>Cuckholding</strike> | Hot-dogging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the sexy dialogue came from Waffle (aka Elffaw). Thank Waffle for being kinky. An amazing inspiration
> 
> Note: noncon roleplay

One month of contemplation and a week of begging back in September allows Victor to attend the next Kennedy Center Honors. Even though he's Agape, it doesn't mean they'll let him perform for consecutive years like Neil Patrick Harris at the Emmys. But he has a stellar recommendation from Yakov Feltsman and they have heard Yuuri Katsuki, a prominent donor, is his mate. 

While his stomach stays relatively flat so far, Victor takes the time to practice his violin over and over for November and December. He finds well-preserved old sheet music he hasn't seriously touched in years, though it has been played for fun occasionally over the years. 

The new puppy, which is still peeing everywhere even after three weeks of schooling, is still very much a puppy and has been named Mochachin. Makkachin has taken a liking to the puppy, despite how many times she has peed straight onto Makkachin's favorite dog bed. The older dog showed Mochachin all the best spots in the backyard, the squirrels hiding in the pine trees, the many doggy doors, and the swimming pools. 

"Yuuri, you need to find your seat," says the omega, making a last minute adjustment on the violin bow. "They're about to start." 

Yuuri, bending down, kisses Victor's forehead. "Okay, but I'll be watching you, Victor. Good luck." 

Victor smirks up at his alpha, channeling an edge of Agape's notorious persona. "Haven't you heard of Agape, Yuuri? He doesn't need luck." 

Yuuri laughs. Then he leaves the omega at the makeup table for his seat. 

The next thirty minutes seem to pass by in a breeze. Masumi brushes on minimal makeup, just enough so Victor doesn't look washed out on the cameras and under the stage lights. He slips on his outfit ten minutes before he's called to the stage. He holds the violin and bow on stage right and allows Masumi to correct the wireless headset microphone. 

Then he's called to the stage, a lone light centering on the omega dressed in seemingly normal clothes of a purple dress shirt and black slacks that has Chris remarking "Agape looks like a Disney prince." Through the darkness, he can vaguely make out Yuuri sitting in the very front seats. He smiles at the audience, holding the violin to his neck and waiting for the announcer to finish. 

"Finishing his final jury examination to graduate from Juilliard School with honors in both violin and opera after a stellar career in pop music, Kennedy Center Honors is proud to present Victor Nikiforov playing Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst's 'The Last Rose of Summer.'" 

He honestly doesn't get stage fright, but he might develop some shaky nerves just from the hellish complexity of this violin solo. It's one of the last ones he played in Juilliard. Yakov suggested him to do this one rather than "Caprices." As he plays and falls into the melody and the complicated hand movements, he's suddenly struck by how much the solo suited him. It possesses a similar meaning to "You Only Live Once", a song he collaborated with a Japanese singer. "The Last Rose of Summer" is about growing older, being the last one alive when everyone else has gone. 

The song challenges him, demanding him to fall and stumble. Taken by defeat and unworthiness. But he wrestles with his bow, his delicate fingers hitting every single note perfectly. He knows that although the tune of this song requires something serious and mournful, he plays it triumphantly, refusing to let his love die. A temporary victory over death. 

He barely notices the applause when he plays the last note. He hands the Stradivarius violin to the host, shaking out his hand discreetly as he straightens. He stands still, waiting for his cue. 

According to the jury examination rules, Victor has to play at least six minutes of music with satisfactory demonstrations of his musical aptitude. Because he's a double major, he has to play at least twelve minutes. "The Last Rose of Summer" is way over six minutes. The two opera songs together is just enough to squeak by the minimum. 

He knows there are Juilliard representatives here, but he could hardly care when his performances are solely for his alpha. 

"Presenting Victor Nikiforov to sing Giacomo Puccini's 'Nessun dorma', an Italian aria from  _ Turandot." _

He has a soft spot for arias. It's one of the first things Victor has ever fall in love with, and this aria is one of his favorites. In the context of the opera, the aria is about a prince who solves Princess Turandot's three riddles and wins her hand in marriage. However, she begs her father to not marry the prince, and so the prince gives her a puzzle of his own. Figure out his name before dawn and he will be executed like all her other suitors. 

It's triumphant, victorious in the knowledge that she'll never will find out. That he has won in the end, exhilarating in his certain, assured victory. 

But he does not imagine the cold, aloof princess. He sees Yuuri, his beloved alpha. He sees the precious twins in his belly, his wonderful magical pups. He sees himself as victorious over the world, breathing in and cherishing his life and loves. 

And when he holds the final note, quickly cutting it off as the orchestra swells around him, he smiles broadly. 

Applause. 

But he only looks at Yuuri, who wipes tears from the corner of his eyes. 

“‘Stammi Vicino’ from the upcoming album,  _ Victor,  _ as performed by Victor Nikiforov for the first time ever,” says an announcer. 

This is his original composition, the song that unfurled itself when he sat in the reception for the OB-GYN with Yuuri. The two of them, just waiting patiently just a few days ago, uncertain of the unknown. This was the first time they’ve been to the doctor’s office. Just waiting in the first month of Victor’s pregnancy, the very proof revealing itself, so alive and vibrant right before them. Seeing is believing, after all. 

Breathing in right before the cue, Victor begins his aria. 

_ Sento una voce che piange lontano  _

_ Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato? _

He continues, singing and straining his voice as he moves closer and closer to the edge of the stage. Yuuri is so close, right there. He's watching every moment, unable to take his eyes off of Victor. 

Victor can't look away from Yuuri. 

_ Stammi vicino, non te ne andare _

Stay close to me

Don’t ever leave, Yuuri. 

* * *

Afterwards, Victor stays in the reception hall to accept congratulations. Holding a bouquet of blue roses in his arms, he sees Yakov approaching him. His latest student, Mila, quickly excused herself, but she hovers somewhat close with an Italian student nearby, helping themselves to the free finger foods. 

"Victor," gruffly says the old professor in lieu of a proper greeting. "A little rusty on the violin, but I'm pleased you retained your voice as a tenor." 

"Yakov," Victor cheerfully replies, "that is your speak for very good and impressive, right?" 

"Could use some improvement." 

Victor smells cherry blossoms before he sees Yuuri strolling to put his arm around the omega. Grinning, he points to Yakov. "Yuuri, this is Yakov Feltsman, my old professor at Juilliard." Then he gestures at his alpha. "Yakov, this is my mate, Yuuri Katsuki." 

Strangely blushing red, Yuuri picks up the exact same cheerful tone as Victor. "Ah, yes, Yakov Feltsman! The amazing Russian Pavarotti!" 

There's definitely a vein close to popping on Yakov's forehead. 

Mila and her friend cover their snickering laughter behind their hands. When Yakov looks their way, his gaze capable of withering flowers, their snorting becomes quite forceful coughing. 

Yakov refocuses himself on Yuuri, his microexpressions working overtime as his eyes twitch. He emotionlessly says, "Yes, many have considered me the most prominent Russian tenor." 

Yuuri's quick to soothe, ever the diplomat. "Yes, but you are most certain the most prominent opera teacher. Victor is only one out of the dozens of students you've trained who have gone on to be successful. Mila Babicheva is amazing in her aria. You're truly matched by none, Mr. Feltsman." 

"Thank you," guardedly says Yakov, a little less offended now. "The Kennedy Center would like to thank you for your contribution this year, Mr. Katsuki." 

"Of course. It's the least I can do." 

* * *

Victor almost stabs both of the Juilliard students just from how much congratulations and praise they're giving Yuuri. 

When they are back in their car with the expensive violin in their backseat, Victor finally says, "You remember what I said about Russian Pavarotti?"

"I remember your promise," Yuuri replies with a genuine smile. He leans over Victor and takes out a black velvet box from the glove compartment. Slowly, he explains, "This is a gift you can reject." 

"Is it one of the courting gifts?" the omega asks. 

"No." 

Victor's fingers find the ridge. "Is it selfish?" 

"Very." 

* * *

"Is it tight? Too tight? I can loosen it." He adjusts the golden collar at Victor's neck. The decorative gold chains connected to the frame of a poster bed rattle as Yuuri hooks it in. 

Mouth dry, the omega whispers, "It's good." He moves his feet, the golden cuff around his ankle cushioned as its gold chain moves. He's wearing a very, very sexy pink outfit that is similar to an expensive, high class slave fitting for an emperor. A pink silk skirt with its sides cut to expose part of his legs is the only true piece of clothes he's wearing. He has wide cushioned cuffs around his wrists and ankles. 

It's nice when he has the same kinks as his alpha. 

Yuuri returns from the nightstand with a velvet box. Smiling, he says, "Your gift from me." 

"The very selfish gift," remarks the omega, faking disapproval. His spine rigid with nerves, he sits straight, watching Yuuri slip the first nipple clamp on. 

Small marble-sized glowing pearls dangle from the expensive gold tweezer clamp. It clamps around Victor's pink nipple, surprisingly not hurting. The pressure tickles at his nerves, sensual. His nipples seem so sensitive at touch now. 

"We don't want it too tight," explains Yuuri. "But it may be painful once removed if it's kept on too long. It'll be uncomfortable for certain." 

Victor nervously glances at his alpha. 

"I'll remove it," promises the alpha. "It won't be on for more than twenty minutes." He draws the omega in for a kiss, his hands curled around Victor. Then he pulls back with slight disappointment. "You remember your safe word?" 

"Eros," dutifully answers Victor. 

"Good." 

* * *

Victor's been bought and sold to a new master. As the former omega prince of a fallen empire, he's been spared from being sold off to work hard, backbreaking labor. They've primped and decorated him in an expensive, sheer pink skirt. They've chained him to the bed of a battle commander to ensure he couldn't run away, locking him in a gilded cage. 

The door opens, the smell of a dominant, confident alpha wafting in. 

The omega holds his nose high. He's certainly not going to roll over and present his belly just because of how tough he seems. He'll have to catch him, if he could. 

"You're a lovely one," says this naked barbarian, stepping closer to peer at the omega on the bed. "I heard you are a pretty one. Proven fertile, or so I've heard. Your dead husband managed to put pups in you before he passed." 

Victor glares at the dark-haired alpha. "It's all because of you that he's dead." He resolves to be defiant to the end. 

"And now I've come to conquer you." 

"So? Alphas come and go," snaps Victor. 

The conquering alpha smiles, a hand running over Victor's chain. "Not for you, no. I assure you, Victor. I'll be the last one you'll ever have. After all, I’ve bought you for an exorbitant price, so I expect you to satisfy me. You only have one job, omega." Then his warm hand captures the omega’s foot. He breathes, hunger so evident in his dark endlessly-deep pupils of his eyes, “Your only job, Victor, is to submit.” 

Heart racing, the omega tries to back away from the imposing alpha. The chain pulls taut, refusing to release him. He bites back the begging and groveling. He’s not going to give in that easily. The sudden rip and utter destruction of his skirt is his first warning. He’s thrown onto his stomach in a superior show of strength, and greedy fingers suddenly part his cheeks. He gasps at the sudden tug at his nipples, the pleasure budding. The tattered remains of his clothes are tossed to the floor in an afterthought. 

“So beautiful,” murmurs the alpha. 

“Fuck you,” he shouts, clenching his hole in rebellion.

“Why?” The alpha laughs. “You’re doing it for me.” Surprising the omega, the alpha doesn’t dive straight away into his cunt and pound his hole away like a brute. The barbarian rests his hot, engorged member on his ass, closing the globes of Victor’s ass around it. The friction is rough despite the precum generously leaking down the alpha’s slit. 

Victor clenches his palms around the sheets, moaning. The pleasure is not where he wants it to be. It needs to be further down his cleft, right next to his— 

“Beg your master to fuck that loose pussy of yours, omega,” he pants. 

Then the world snaps back into focus. 

“No,” says Victor. 

The alpha pulls away from him, easily maneuvering the omega around like a rag doll. “Fine. It seems that we have to work on your obedience.” 

He’s sprawled in front of the alpha's lap, staring down at his enormous cock. He’s given little reprieve before his mouth is forced open to accept the wide girth of the alpha’s member. He grunts, drooling freely with eyes tearing up. Hands firm around his head, he bobbles up and down his mouth on the alpha's cock. 

“Swallow,” he orders. 

The seed bursts into Victor’s mouth. Defiant, he releases the cock with a pop, all of the pearly white seed dribbling down from his mouth. Saliva and seed crawl down his chin and over his throat, gleefully running down the omega’s chest. 

The alpha merely smiles. “You’re a stubborn one.” 

Victor lets out a pleading whine. Suddenly being rebellious seems like something the alpha enjoys. Clearly enjoying too much. 

The alpha suddenly grabs ahold of his hips again. He places the omega in his lap, his hard cock pushing against the omega’s legs, a fine temptation to remind Victor of what he is missing in his cunt. He breathes in against the omega’s scent gland, a hand toying with the nipple clamps. “You smell so good, omega. So fertile, so receptive.” He unclasps a clamp from Victor’s nipple. 

He gasps at the sudden rush of blood to his chest. His nipple, a shade of angry red, hardens under the alpha’s ministrations. He whimpers at the discomfort, scenting the air to find the alpha’s brief concern wafting. He arches his chest towards the alpha, the pearls clinking together. 

“So hard. Look how red your nipples are,” comments the alpha. The alpha tugs the other one off, tossing both nipple clamps to an unused corner of the bed.

Victor moans, the alpha diving to suck the nipple. He feels fingers rubbing his nub, chasing away the soreness. Grinding against the alpha, he leaks copious amounts of slick all over his thigh. 

A firm arm wraps around the omega’s waist. The alpha, pulling away from his nipple, asks, “Will you submit now?” 

“No,” declares Victor. 

“Why are you playing so hard to get? I know you spread your legs so wide for your previous master that he fucked a whole litter into your cunt,” he whispers, a hand wrapped around the omega’s cocklet. The other hand posessively palms Victor’s stomach. “Your body is mine to do what I please, omega.” 

Victor moans, thrusting his cocklet even harder into the alpha’s hand. He can barely recognize himself as he’s washed by waves upon waves of pleasure, of being struck by the lightning that is his alpha. 

Tightening his grip around the omega’s cocklet, the alpha murmurs, “Don’t try to deny it, omega. We both know your deepest desire is to submit.” 

Victor slightly bares his neck. 

That’s when the alpha strikes. 

He tightens his grip, throwing the omega’s legs around his hip. “This is what you’re good for, Victor. Just a tool for my pleasure,” whispers the alpha, the words falling over the omega’s ears. He spreads the omega’s folds with a hand, impaling the omega wide open with his cock. Pounding away like his life depends on it, the alpha eagerly renews the claiming bite on the omega's neck. 

The omega instinctively bites back, moaning as the cock thrusts so deep into him at this angle. His cocklet spurting slick over their bodies, he shouts, "Yuuri!" Then he's begging harder when the alpha continues thrusting away at his hole. 

* * *

Under the alpha’s gentle touches, Victor mumbles, “I can’t move.” 

The alpha laughs. “Okay, rest. I’ll clean up and join you.” 

“Good.” Then Victor falls back asleep. 


	30. Shower/Bath Sex ft. Video Cameras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <strike>Sixty-Nine</strike> | <strike>Medical Play</strike> | <strike>Fisting</strike> | Shower/Bath Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome to probably the official least smutty chapter of the entire fanfic. That being said. . . There's still smut.

Six months of being pregnant with a wedding on the way has left Victor moody as hell, tired and hungry. Even though he's getting two pups for the price of one, or whatever is analogy Yuri Plisetsky made about his spawns, he'll be quite happy when they exit his womb, because his cravings is driving everyone up the wall. He swore he saw his alpha nearly cry when he asked for spicy processed potstickers from Costco. While following the written instructions on the yellow package, the alpha squinted at the ingredients in suspicion as he pan-fried with the other hand, muttering under his breath about how he can make better potstickers than that. 

“You okay?” Yuuri looks over at the omega, occasionally putting post-it notes on the packets of legal paperwork he’s examining. Dressed casually and warm in a thick coat, he sits in the first class seat with his back perfectly straight. “Hungry, Victor?”

Drawn back to the present, Victor drools and asks, “You think they have Costco in Japan?” 

“They have a few in Japan,” admits Yuuri, hiding a wince. “What do you want, Victor? I’ll write down a list and have my sister buy some things for you.” 

Happily, Victor begins to list out the food he craves at that moment. “I want rice crackers, cucumbers, dried seaweed, mayonnaise, sesame dressing, hamburgers, french fries, fried zucchini, the hotdog. . .” His voice trails off, and then his eyes flash. “Oh, and I want cheesecake!” He taps his chin. “What about cookies? The one with the three different types. And madeleines!” 

Scribbling in Japanese on a post-it, Yuuri nods and pulls out his laptop. “I’ll see what I can do.” He makes no mention of things like french fries and zucchinis that aren’t sold at Costco.

* * *

They’ve arrived two weeks before the wedding in Hasetsu. Mochachin and Makkachin dive into the melting piles of snow, barking wildly at each other. Yuuri is slightly puzzled by the presence of snow in late March, but Victor says, “It’s totally climate change. After so much process and gains in a slow reversal, humans have been ruining the environment for short-term gain without ever thinking about long-term consequences.” 

Yuuri nods, dragging the luggage behind him. His laptop bag with its thick packets of paperwork is slung over his shoulder. Calling at the door, Yuuri says, “Okaasan, we’re home!” 

Then there’s a flurry of movement bursting from the door. Victor’s been hugged, kissed, and air-kissed so many times that he loses track of who is who. He hears his alpha saying in English each of their names and their relationship to the Katsuki family, though the only ones that stuck to his head are Axel, Lutz, and Loop, the triplets who all look and smell remarkably the same. Except for the fact they wear different color. There are people gesturing at his protruding belly, though none of them are rude enough to touch to see whether or not the pups are moving. Yuuri’s blushing red, and Victor thinks he hears the words  _ Futago _ and  _ Roku _ a few times. 

But he recognizes congratulations when he sees it and he knows when Yuuri is caught up in gratefully thanking each guest for coming to the wedding. Finally, a hand touches his shoulder and kind eyes of Yuuri’s mother look up at the omega. He perfectly says hello in Japanese, the few words Yuuri managed to teach him. 

He’s surprised when fluent but accented English slip out of the older omega. 

“Ah, Vicchan! We’ve been waiting for you for so long. Come in,” she quickly says, breezing through her words. She takes ahold of Mochachin and marches them both inside, leaving a group of a dozen people surrounding Yuuri. “We need to get you out of the cold. Don’t mind my family. They're all retired. They’ve been very excited to see my son. They haven’t seen him since he was a teenager, and the next thing they know, he’s getting married, has a mate, and has babies on the way.” 

Victor tries for a smile. He honestly can’t say the same about having that many people in his family. Other than his parents and maybe a few of his cousins, no one is showing up to his wedding. He does have a few friends flying in, however. Like Chris, Yuri and his DJ friend, and Yakov, who gruffly pretended to consider over the phone when they both knew he was going. And of course, he always has Makkachin and Mochachin. 

“We’re putting both of you into a banquet room.” 

“Wouldn’t that be too big?” protests Victor. He thinks of the large banquet rooms in the big hotels like Marriott and Hyatt. Half of his old apartment could fit in there. 

She adjusts her glasses, pulling out a key. “Well, it’s the only room we have on the first floor. All the other rooms are too small and unsuitable. We had three months to prepare for your arrival, so it’s no big trouble. One little change every day until it's ready. Yuuri told us you were having problems at home with walking up the stairs, so of course, we assigned you both a room with no stairs.” She pushes the door open, revealing a surprisingly tasteful bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a lovely view of melting snow banks outside. The former banquet room is about the size of a regular classroom back in Juilliard. 

“If you need anything, then let me now. Do you have my phone number?”

Victor nods, finding his voice. “Yeah, I also have his father’s and his sister’s.” Yuuri gave him a list of people to add along with a few of the locals and some of his coworkers in the off-chance he gets lost in Hasetsu. 

Okay, it might not be an off-chance. There’s a good chance that Victor will think he knows the way back to the hot springs and ends up failing by two miles. Or more. It's why Yuuri has taken the precaution of buying Victor a better smartphone with more storage to download offline maps of Hasetsu and nearby towns as well as a GPS app. 

"Your wedding dresses arrived a week ago." Hiroko Katsuki slides open a discreet closet door, revealing the designer dresses in their protective sealed bags. She grabs a white envelope from the shelf and hands it to the omega. "This is Mari's gift to both of you." 

He figures it can't be too risky to open it in front of Yuuri's mother. 

He's mistaken. It's color stickers for piano keys, the kind that is perfect for teaching children the piano. And second of all, it's a subtle reminder of how they've seen each other for the first time. He resolves to hide it under the bed before Yuuri sees and decides something rash like payback on his older sister. 

"I've seen your Twitter poll. My advice to choosing a dress is the one you're most comfortable in. You do not want to spend two hours wearing a pretty but itchy dress, Vicchan. Your dress may be a nightgown or a bed sheet, because my son does not care what you wear when you're marrying him." 

It's far better advice than what he's gotten from Twitter. He's put up mockups of his dresses and then concluded he's not wearing any of them after his followers fiercely debated it in the replies. And of course, Yuuri saw the Tweet despite not being on Twitter for the most of his social media life. 

* * *

The day of the wedding arrives without Yuuri in his bed. Victor's been in a blur the last few weeks, having been introduced to the entire town and maybe the next town over as well. He sleeps in as long as possible, curling into the fading notes of his alpha's scent. He’s been tethering between hungry, horny, and sleepy for the last two months. 

Then he's sleepily sitting while Masumi brushes on foundation, trying to politely ignoring the wedding photographer. The twins have been sapping more and more energy lately, and all he really wants is food and a good nap. Usually with his alpha nearby. Or a good dicking. Definitely with his alpha nearby, preferably buried deep inside of Victor. 

His mood doesn't improve when Yuri comes in, takes one look at the bride, and declares, "Wow, Victor, you're getting fat." 

Typically, Victor laughs it off. Yuri Plisetsky has the sort of personality where he will die before he says something nice. But instead, tears fill his eyes. In a rush, he demands, "Am I hideous? Am I ugly? Maybe I should have waited for next year for the wedding." 

Backtracking while Masumi and his mothers glare at the omega, Yuri blanches and quickly blurts out, "You're glowing positively with maternal beauty!" 

He's quickly sent outside. 

But Victor soon forgets when he finally sees the alpha at the end of the aisle. His two mothers walk beside him, stopping right before Yuuri to take a seat in the front row. He forgets about his dress, the flowy strapless white cotton dress that ends at his ankles. He forgets the weight of the expensive, extravagant collar glimmering in the bright sun. He could make out the alpha even through the white veil held by a crown of blue roses, his something blue. 

He smiles at the alpha, who’s releasing calm pheromones and removing the veil from Victor's face. Completely ignoring the words of Minako, who is acting as their officiant, he whispers a hello under his breath. 

The alpha returns his smile. 

Then Victor says  _ I do _ at the right moments, promising to cherish and love this alpha in the best of health or in sickness. He says it in front of Yuuri’s family, his family, Yuuri’s friends, his friends, Yuuri’s coworkers, the flower girls, and the officiant. He says it with all of his heart, completely and wholeheartedly honest. A promise he'll never break. 

Victor laughs in delight when Makkachin barks, running down the wedding aisle with a dainty pillow on her back. Then Mochachin follows, a velvet ring box and string wrapped around her body. She darts right between Yuuri’s legs, breaking free of the wedding ceremony. Yuuri’s best man, Phichit, ends up having to chase Mochachin for a few moments around the blooming pink cherry blossom trees to the laughter of the three flower girls and soft chuckles of the audience. Makkachin, her tongue sticking out, wags her tail and sits by Yuuri, the very picture of a perfectly well-behaved good girl. 

Victor knows it’s lies. She’s been drinking his toilet water for fun on occasion. 

The ceremony continues once Phichit heroically emerges from the trees, Mochachin looking innocently in his arms. He hands the box to Yuuri. 

Victor holds out his hand for Yuuri to place a simple engraved gold band on his finger. Then Victor does the same for Yuuri, his heart swelling at the thought of  _ stammi vicino  _ engraved inside of the band. His has  _ non te ne andare. _

Then they kiss, quite chastely and sweetly.

* * *

Their honeymoon is in Barcelona, Spain. It’s one of the few remaining properties Yuuri owns after selling most of it to his firm and his fellow senior partners. He still keeps the ones in Frankfurt, Tokyo, Ontario, and other places he may still have to travel to in the firm’s interest. But in private, he admits to the omega that he keeps Frankfurt out of sentimental reasons. 

Victor would keep the Frankfurt house, too. He has lovely memories there. 

The first thing the omega does after a long, long nap on the plane is shopping. Yuuri, who has slept maybe half of the trip, follows the omega around, dutifully handing over his credit card when Victor finally decides on the things to buy. Most of it is gifts for friends and family, though Victor has sneaked a few attractive things just for them at the bottom of the pile so Yuuri wouldn’t notice. 

It’s also the first time he has seen Yuuri looking incredibly tired. It turns out nothing tires the alpha out more than three hours of shopping. He could have Victor in all sorts of positions for hours without stopping, but one look at specialty nut and dried fruit shop gets him nearly snoring right on his feet. 

“I'm sorry. I’m so sleepy,” groans Yuuri, his face down in the bed.

“Yuuri,” sings the omega, poking the alpha’s shoulder. Then suddenly thinking of an amazing idea, he smiles, sneaking away to let the alpha sleep. He gleefully waddles away to their suitcases.

* * *

It doesn’t take too much effort or straining to get a professional camera set up. He’s mostly struggling to do the straps of the sexy white babydoll lingerie that’s cut in the front to allow his stomach to protrude freely. He puts on the pearl necklace Yuuri gave him a long time ago. While he waits for the alpha to wake, he gently teases himself, a hand stroking away at his cocklet. 

“Victor? What’s this?” 

“A professional camera, capable of taking high definition pictures,” answers Victor, his hand still moving. He parts his legs, his knee poking at his alpha’s side. The scent of his slick freely wafts through the air, openly taunting the alpha. “I remembered what you said. You wanted a photo of me, Yuuri?” 

The alpha chokes. 

Victor purrs, “Then take it.” 

He forgets how cruel Yuuri could be at times. He orders the omega to stop pleasuring himself. From being in flirtatiously innocent postures to downright filthy poses, Victor is being tortured to the edge of his sanity. Pregnancy hormones make him quite hornier and moodier than usual, which is why Victor is quick to beg. 

"Alpha, fuck me," he says, his neck bared to show off the pearls around his neck. "What are you waiting for?" 

"Finding the settings to record," casually answers Yuuri. He flicks the switch and then prowls onto the bed. "We wouldn't want to forget tonight." 

It's far different than the times he and Yuuri made love. There's something so exciting about the camera recording every single movement, every sound, every bite. He's fully presented to the camera as Yuuri, frustrated with the complicated ties of the lingerie, tears it off the omega. 

"I'll buy you ten new ones," Yuuri promises. "Promise, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov." 

Victor smiles at his name. Sinking eagerly onto his alpha's cock, he replies back, "Good." 

"Look at the camera," whispers Yuuri, thrusting deep into the omega. He kisses Victor's scent gland. "I bet you look so wanting, Victor. No one will be able to deny it."

* * *

"Come," he says, slipping into the bathtub. Bubbles dart across the water, the water jets blasting in full force. "The water is perfect. A hundred degrees. It won't hurt the pups if you're in for less than twenty minutes." 

Holding the alpha's hand as he goes, he sits on the edge. He swirls his legs around, sighing at the heat. Then his alpha gently brings him down, pulling most of his body underwater. 

With Victor in his lap, Yuuri murmurs, "I'm about to sleep again. But I want to show you something." 

"Oh?" 

He maneuvers them until a water jet directly sprays at Victor's cocklet. With confident fingers, he spreads Victor's folds and carefully moves the omega's hip until the jet is directly aimed at Victor's folds. "You like this?" 

"Oh, Yuuri," he gasps. It's an incredibly new sensation, something different than a vibrator. And it's so quick to bring him to completion, making him arch his back against his alpha in overwhelming pleasure. 

He shudders as he comes. 

The alpha kisses his neck, smiling against his shoulder. "You're so beautiful, Victor. So good for me." 


	31. Free Day!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy-Inducing Sex ft. Cockwarming and Somnophilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome to the fucking end. Wow.

He's been endlessly waddling around the kitchen, alternating from hunting for food or literally waiting for the pups to finally decide to be born. Victor has been fervently counting down the days, hours, and seconds to his expected delivery date. Under the recommendation from Yuuri and his own vanity, he opted not for a C-section that will leave a hideous scar over his stomach. He runs his hands over his bulging stomach, wondering if he wants to go back to bed or eat or sleep. . . 

"Want do you want to eat, Victor?" asks Yuuri, running a towel through his wet hair. He took a shower after Victor accidentally squirted the ketchup bottle in his direction at dinner. "Pizza? Salad? I'll make something for you." 

Victor pauses in his waddling. He thinks for a long moment, considering dish after dish after dish. Damn pregnant brain makes him forgetful. More so than usual. He feels a kick at his stomach, and then he quickly blurts out, “Chocolate and sushi. Sushi dipped in chocolate.” He pauses. “But I also want you to fuck me, Yuuri.” 

His alpha doesn’t even blink. “Okay, do you need help walking to your nest?”

The gentleness in his alpha’s words flips him off. Victor doesn’t examine why. His inhibitions have been greatly lowered since Month 5 of Pregnancy, and it does wonders for their sex life sometimes. He’s been having wonderful energy riding Yuuri’s dick at odd times like 2 in the morning. “My legs work perfectly fine!” shouts Victor, waddling away. He pushes the door open and huffs as he sits on the bed, crawling through the little opening in his nest. 

He buries himself underneath the blankets until he hears the door creak open. 

"Yuuri?" 

"I brought sushi and the chocolate syrup," Yuuri says, placing a tray onto a foldable wooden table and then hovering around the omega. "Is there anything else you want to eat?" 

"Wasabi?" 

Yuuri gestures to the tray. "There is. And some packets of soy sauce. I also have the sashimi from the sushi place in Irvine." 

Victor wants to feel sad about making Yuuri's assistants go on delivery duty. A two hour drive all the way from Beverly Hills to Irvine and then another two hours back. But then he remembers the wonderful, amazingly delicious taste of the sashimi and he wants them to buy even more plates for him to eat. 

Yuuri, using clean fingers, offer each one piece by piece to the omega. The first few taste alright, lovingly dipped with a light scratch of the wasabi and a healthy dribble of the chocolate syrup. The alpha has a polite version of the thought _ I can't believe at least one of our pups like this shit _written all over his face, which Victor is politely ignoring. He had the exact same expression when Victor ate the peppered lemon slices dipped in ranch dressing, a chocolate eclair made with curry, and fried cucumber with mustard. 

Then Victor squirms against the bed, slick leaking onto the freshly laundered sheets of over a thousand cotton thread. "Yuuri, I need you in me." 

"But food—" 

"Both," demands Victor, cutting off his husband. Stripping off his nightgown and throwing it to the carpet floor, he pouts, "I want both. Let me sit on your dick and let me eat in peace." He wears nothing underneath the baby blue nightgown, having found that this way is most comfortable. He keeps the nightgown on, because he can’t put on clothes fast enough while wandering through the house in hopes of labor and running into a few of Yuuri’s assistants. 

His alpha chokes, but he moves the large tray into the nest, pulls off all of his clothes, sets them aside, and obediently climbs into the nest. He shifts the pregnant omega over onto his lap, raising Victor’s hips to be aligned to his erect cock. 

Victor sinks onto Yuuri with a relieved sigh. Then feeling quite hungry again despite the large dinner he ate less than thirty minutes earlier, he says, “Wait, I want food.” 

His alpha reaches for another sushi. 

Holding back some sniffles, he asks, “Can you make some pizza sushi tomorrow? I never had pizza sushi before. And can we try the sushi with melted gouda again?” 

Erection wilting inside of the omega, Yuuri doesn’t deny Victor at all. He smiles with a wince and answers, “Of course, we can try all of those things again. Tomorrow, though. I need a small break from trying to bake eggnog cookies. I’m very sorry they didn’t turn out to taste very well with the whiskey.” 

The omega sniffles. “It didn’t taste like there was whiskey.” 

Completely straight face, his alpha replies, “I think I put too little whiskey in the cookies. Too little to taste and detect with your tongue.” Yuuri notices Victor’s pout. Grabbing a sashimi made with raw eel, he forcefully skims it across the tiny sauce cup of wasabi and dips it into the white ceramic bowl of chocolate syrup, quick to wave it under Victor’s nose in an enticing manner. “Take a bite of this, Victor.” 

Victor takes the bait, moaning at the way it simply taste in his mouth. He’s utterly convinced that this is the greatest food ever made on the entire planet. Nothing else could ever compare. It's better than the gourmet food he ate. All of them. Although Yuuri's food could perhaps run a close second. . . 

Victor winces at the sudden spasm of pain in his stomach. He ignores it. The pups have been inducing contractions on and off for the last few days. They appear once and then say goodbye, taunting Victor of an oncoming labor he'll have to suffer through. Yuuri knows to ask for an epidural, if Victor's too out of it to ask for it himself. 

"Victor, are you okay?" 

The omega nods, once the pain recedes. He shifts his weight, stirring Yuuri's erection back to life. He clenches his channel around the alpha, offering Yuuri his neck and showing off the bite mark to his alpha. "Yeah, I'm alright. Which means you need to fuck me, Yuuri,” he demands, purring. He’s temporarily sated for now. Or rather, he doesn’t feel like eating anything for the moment. 

Yuuri doesn’t pound away at Victor’s hole nor does he go too gently. His teeth skims across the omega’s shoulder, gently scenting Victor with comfort and calmness. Then he nibbles at Victor’s scent gland, his hand rolling a nipple between his fingers. He smiles against Victor when Victor lets out a pleased moan. 

At this stage in his pregnancy, Victor’s breasts have filled out with milk for their pups. They’ve been sore lately, and sometimes, he gets his nightgown wet because of lactation. Yuuri’s warm touch is so sweet, every stroke worshipful. It’s so pleasant to Victor that he nearly dozes it off. 

He does doze off. 

He quickly wakes up to the alpha stopping and trying to lay Victor down to sleep. It’s late and some time like eleven at night, but that doesn’t mean Yuuri shouldn’t fuck him even though he’s tired as hell. He wants to please his alpha. Even if it means acting like a pillow princess most of the time, overwhelmed by Yuuri’s sheer stamina. Sounding incredibly bratty, Victor demands, “Yuuri, did I tell you to stop? I want you to keep fucking me. I need a good dicking. Then you could feed me afterwards.” 

“Yes, Victor.” 

The omega does nothing but moan in pleasure as the alpha runs a hand over his leaking cocklet. He alternate hands between his sensitive red nipples and his hard cocklet. While Yuuri rolls his cock and thrusts shallowly, Victor feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness. He lets out a gasp when slick spurts out of his cocklet, the omega tightening around the alpha’s cock in release. Yuuri continues, his stamina untouched and untested. He’s lulled by the rhythmic movements, and then darkness dances across his eyes. He’s vaguely unsettled by a faint throbbing pain in his nether. 

He comes to with Yuuri still thrusting, the pace even faster than before. The alpha bites into Victor’s scent gland, renewing the bite mark. He murmurs, every word purring with glee, “You look so good like this, Victor. Filled with our pups.” 

“Yuuri,” cries Victor, arching his back. “Alpha, oh!” The pleasure briefly chases away the pain. 

Then the pain strikes back with force. Victor quickly realizes it’s not pain at his neck from Yuuri reopening the bite mark. But rather from his stomach. He immediately recognizes it as a contraction. He whines at Yuuri, holding his enlarged stomach. “Yuuri?” 

“Victor, I don’t think you should feel this wet.” Yuuri's voice is tightly controlled. Too controlled, actually. He slowly pulls Victor off his cock, the omega whimpering but rising. Then suddenly a gush of clear liquid runs over Yuuri’s thighs. 

“What,” gasps Victor, not quite understanding. The pain’s definitely getting worse, and he could feel the pups just wanting and needing to get out of his womb. 

“Your water broke,” Yuuri says, his words rushed. 

“We’re having these babies,” the omega realizes.

* * *

They check in at almost midnight, the maternal ward thankfully not too crowded. But he’s certain Yuuri would have slipped them a couple grand or given them an entire medical wing if he knew it’ll get Victor admitted and seen by the obstetrician on duty. He gets a private room. 

“He’s not dilated enough to be given an epidural. But when he is, we’ll give it to him,” assures a beta nurse, rolling away from between Victor’s spread legs. 

“How dilated is he?” 

“Almost four centimeters,” says the nurse, trying for a comforting smile. 

Lying on the hospital bed with an unattractive hospital gown partially covering his body, Victor sobs. There’s contractions coming and going every once in a while, each one an unpleasant surprise. “I don’t like this pain.” 

Standing right by Victor’s side, Yuuri rubs the omega’s shoulders. He offers a hand and says, “Here. Squeeze my hand, Victor.” 

Tears roll out of the omega’s eyes. “I hope we never get pregnant again. I don’t want to try for ten babies anymore.” 

The nurse whispers, “Call us when the time between the contractions changes. Right now, he’s at about fifteen in between each one and he’s not dilated enough. I would suggest you try to get him to walk around a bit. It’ll help the babies move.” 

It does not work that well. 

Victor still possess enough mental function to not be completely reduced into babbles by the pain. He proceeds to insult everything about Yuuri as they slowly move through the sterile hallways. “I hate your stupid gelled hair and your attractive glasses and anything that made me look at you and decide that hell, yeah, I want all of your babies.” 

“Yes, Victor. I’m very sorry,” says Yuuri, taking it all like a champ. 

His sister, Mari, has arrived at the hospital with Hiroko Katsuki and a couple of bags filled with goodies. Mari Katsuki unhelpfully snickers, holding out an opened bottle of mineral water to Victor. Hiroko stands in front of their path, making sure no one bowls over the pregnant omega by accident. Yuuri’s father was at a friend’s house in San Diego and still on the freeway. 

Yuuri passes a glare over to his older sister. 

“I want french fries.” 

“Yes, Victor,” replies Yuuri, holding the omega steady. “Anything else?” 

Victor thinks for a moment, trying for a waddle around the corner. He decides, “No, I just want french fries. I’m quite hungry now.” Then he winces, another contraction that hurts even harder than the previous. “Yuuri, contraction.” 

“That’s almost four minutes since the last one,” says Mari, looking at her fancy mechanical watch. Glancing at her phone, she adds, “Victor, your parents are coming. They’re on the way. Twenty minutes, okay?” 

The omega whines. There’s still some more waiting to go. Back in the room, Hiroko has set out a clean blanket for him to try some different positions on the floor to help the babies get rolling. Listening to Hiroko and Yuuri gently try to calm him, he breathes like he’s supposed to. Or at least, he tries. It’s a bit hard while he’s being torn at by contractions. 

He has no concept of time. Just pain. 

At some point, he’s back on the hospital bed, simply so woozy from pain. It hurts far less than it would be thanks to the epidural. Although Victor couldn’t imagine what the pain will be like without it. He thinks he might pass out and then he’ll get that dreaded C-section that’ll leave an unsightly scar on his stomach. Plus, he has read it’s quite terrible and unnecessary for an awaiting omega when they are perfectly capable of delivering the baby. 

Then he’s being ordered to push by the nurse. 

He sobs, complete with ugly tears and sticky sweat. He doesn’t have much of a will to put together any words. He curls his body up, pushing and straining with all of his might. 

With an attitude of a drill sergeant and the full glory of her Russian accent, Victoria Nikiforov barks out, “Vitya, you’re going to push cause if you don’t, the pain will last longer.” His omega mother squeezes her fist, giving Victor the most concentrated and constipated expression he has ever seen on anyone. It’s almost as if she’s giving birth, just without the babies and the agonizing pain. “You must do this!” 

Victor cries. 

“Push, Victor,” says Yuuri, scenting the omega with as much calming pheromones he could muster in this moment. He winces as Victor crushes his hand. “Come on, Victor, you could do it. You’ve been so amazing.” 

“Breathe, Vicchan,” says Hiroko from the corner. Her comforting, motherly pheromones wash over Victor. A tertiary support figure, after Yuuri who is the first and his mothers who are the second. Everyone else is outside in the waiting rooms, waiting hours after hours to hear the progress of the twins. 

The nurse looks at her watch. Then she says, “Push!” 

Victor curls his body up again, pushing with all his might. 

It’s a birth that takes long, painful hours. When the first twin emerges fully, it’s amid brief congratulations before Victor is ordered to start pushing again for the second one. The second one comes a little easier now, and he could faintly hear the cries of his firstborn, so beautiful and alive. 

He thinks he hears Yuri Plisetsky shrieking outside. “It looks like an alien!” 

The next thing he’s aware of is of a warm small being placed on his chest. She’s wet and covered with blood and fluids. But she’s so beautiful with just a wisp of black hair on the very top of her head. Staring at her, Victor smiles.

* * *

When he has one twin in his arms, he gently cooes as she sucks away at his nipple. He turns to Yuuri who holds the younger twin in his nervous arms. She's wide awake, staring at everything. The pain has melted away mostly, and he’s grinning at his alpha. “When can we have another, Yuuri?” 

Yuuri only blinks, wordless.

* * *

> On a Friday at 7:28 A.M., Alina Katsuki-Nikiforov (weighing 5.6 pounds) is born to her proud parents, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov and Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov. Her identical twin sister, Amara Katsuki-Nikiforov (weighting 5.2 pounds), follows her at 8:11 A.M. Both girls are born healthy with ten fingers and toes. They’re welcomed into this world by Victoria and Anastasia Nikiforov, Mari, Toshiya, and Hiroko Katsuki, Makkachin and Mochachin (canine family members), friends, and the medical staff at Mercy Hospital in Beverly Hills, California.

* * *

Track Listing for _ Victor, _Agape’s third album (released 2018)

  1. “Stammi Vicino” 
  2. “Duetto: Stammi Vicino” ft. Mila Babicheva
  3. “Nessun dorma” 
  4. “Ave Maria” 
  5. “Con te partirò” 
  6. “Pour mon âme”
  7. “‘O sole mio” 
  8. "La donna è mobile"
  9. "Una furtiva lagrima"
  10. “On Our Love: the Violin & Piano” ft. Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov

**Author's Note:**

> 18+ on Ice Discord Link: https://discord.gg/jRXfSXc 
> 
> Come join to yell at me.


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